


Guilt's Bad For Your Health

by Corvin



Series: Blood Magic Collection [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blood Magic, Credence's dark thoughts, Fluff, M/M, Minor Praise Kink, Not CoG Compliant, Oral Sex, Pining Credence, Semi-Roommates, Stowaways, Virgin Credence Barebone, absolutely no research on any kind of magic while describing said blood magic, attempts at humor, minor mention of Newt/Tina, mooncalves, stuck together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/pseuds/Corvin
Summary: Seemingly abandoned wherever Grindelwald imprisoned him, Graves makes one last ditch effort to escape. In doing so, ends up face to face with Credence. And it seems they are on a boat.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Two ideas came to me while I was playing Dragon Age and peeps was bitchin about blood magic. This was the first one. 
> 
> Not proofread. I mean, I tried to proofread, and I even changed the font, but time makes fools of us all. 
> 
> Minor nautical research was done.

There was a common misconception in the no-naj communities that magic was evil. In actuality, it was a force of nature, innate to some, that had no morality beyond the will and intent of the user. And it could be used in a lot of different ways. 

For instance, a well aimed stunning curse could knock a man senseless. A charm could make him light as a feather and easily moved. A special thing called Transfiguration could be manipulated with incredible skill so that polyjuice would not be necessary for impersonation. 

Graves, who had been on the receiving end of such feats, had been sitting in one of the corners, seething as he heard muffled, distant noises from somewhere outside his prison. He cherished the days when Grindelwald could not find the time to visit him. 

Although he had no outside light, his ingrained sleep schedule from years of working at MACUSA, and the army before that, helped him keep track of the days. Whatever Grindelwald hoped to achieve in New York while wearing Graves’ face, it was taking weeks. The visits only came when Grindelwald felt he needed new information, or remembered that a hostage needed food and water. 

Days without meals meant his body was weaker, but time between onslaughts let his mental barriers heal. Casting was impossible, but his skill with occlumency was the only reason he was still alive. After all, Grindelwald wasn’t particularly familiar with all of America’s Wizarding laws, and infiltrating the high ranks of MACUSA would call for a lot of knowledge. 

Groaning, Graves stood and began to stretch out his back. He’d seen people freed from captivity after long stretches of time, had seen the recovery process after all the damage. He did his best to keep as active as the space would allow, so if-- _ when _ he was freed, he would pay Grindelwald back tenfold. 

It had been nearly three days since Grindelwald last came. In that time, there were miniscule changes in the fabric of the wards, but he lacked the strength to fully test what that could mean for him. 

His water was running dangerously low, and he had no more food left. So he stuck to simple stretches that would move his muscles, but not burn through his dwindling reserves of fat. His clothes were already beginning to hang off him as it was. 

But then for a moment, he felt completely off balance. It was a similar sensation that he’d felt shortly after Grindelwald imprisoned him. At the time, he assumed that meant his container was being moved. He entertained the briefest hope that his aurors had finally become wise to the situation, and were attempting to break him out. 

That was dashed with the muted sound of a fog horn. He hadn’t heard that before. Had he been moved near a ship or docking yard? Graves froze, trying to listen for any voices, but there was nothing. It seemed his container had been moved from its original place. 

“No,” he whispered into the quiet. “No, no, no.” 

If he was being moved, what did that mean for Grindelwald’s plan? Had he succeeded in whatever he was doing, or had he been killed? Graves had figured that if he was to die in this crate, it would be Grindelwald killing him, and at least he might put up some kind of fight. 

But not like this, wasting away in solitude, leaving nothing but a starved, dehydrated corpse… 

What some people tended to forget about magic, was that it wasn’t only what one read about in text books. Sure there were the standard spells taught in classrooms to magical children, but there were also people pushing the boundaries, discovering new ways to change the world through imagination and experimentation. 

Graves closed his eyes and took deep calming breaths as he tried to recall everything he’d ever learned about counteracting magical dampening. 

He had no wand, but he didn’t need one. The magic came from his mind and his blood, but something Grindelwald did to the crate would diffuse the magic the moment it left his fingertips. Chewing his lip, because calming breaths had been working less and less lately, Graves sank to his knees. 

It was hard to focus deeply with the gnawing emptiness in his gut. His mind was sharp, but his body was getting weaker every day. Some of the skin gave under his teeth, and he tasted the metallic tang of his own blood. It felt strange to note that he could taste the difference between his malnourished state and before he was captured. 

Graves stared hard at the far wall, the one that Grindelwald always entered through. There was no apparent door, but that was where it would appear on the outside. The only way to make it appear to would be the magic he couldn’t use. 

No wand, no casting through the air, he had to wonder what was left. Graves winced as he bit too hard on his own lip and he finally reached up to test the damage. 

His finger came back with bright red blood, diluted with a little saliva. 

“Magic,” Graves said to himself as he looked at this finger, “in the blood.” 

He’d heard of people using physical blood with spells, though they were mostly cautionary tales. Don’t use blood magic, so the lessons went. It was a slippery slope from using your own, to hurting other people or creatures, and then to murder and madness. 

Graves wasn’t completely above counting himself as mad. He had no way to open his veins beyond his teeth, so Graves crawled to the far wall, biting open his bottom lip until it stung and ached, before turning his gnawing to the thin skin on his fingers.

He knew very few runes or sigils, as they were often considered impractical or unimportant due to the wide usage of wands and simple enchanted items. 

Blood filled his mouth, and he frantically swished it with his saliva so that he could use it to draw. All the symbols he could picture, with very little meaning remembered, covered the wall. Graves was beginning to feel light headed as they all dried into place. 

“Open,” he growled, trying to channel the magic through the blood. He tried over and over, trying Latin, Greek, Spanish, even Japanese, but he couldn’t get it to respond. Frustration burned him and he slammed his bitten hands against the wall, roaring, “I said  _ open _ !” 

His prison blew apart. 

* * *

Credence had let his feet lead him, unsure where one could even go to get away from the powerful people who tried to kill him. His first thought had been to return home, but he remembered all that would be left was rubble and death.

His ma was dead, so was Chastity, and Modesty was both missing and terrified of him. Mr. Graves had betrayed him, and the magical world that he’d wanted to so desperately to escape to had tried to kill him. He walked mindlessly, deciding that if the witches were still looking for him, he wouldn’t be able to hide. 

Credence had thought he was dead for a while after being obliterated. The state reminded him of Genesis, when the world was without form and void. But the more time passed, the more his physical form began to return. 

At first he cried, doubled over in a dirty, wet alley. He had hurt all over, exhausted, hungry, and his clothes were in tatters. He had no one left, not even the man who was supposed to rescue him. It would have been better if he had died. 

But then he started to move. Despite wanting nothing more than to lie on the ground until time stopped, Credence rose without thinking of a destination, and he began to walk. 

It was as though he was even more invisible than normal. Credence kept his head down, focusing only on being small and slipping through the foot traffic unnoticed. Maybe it was magic that made it possible? Mr. Graves called him a squib, and said he couldn’t do magic, but at the time, he also thought that Modesty was the...monster. 

He was accustomed to hearing seagulls from time to time, mixed in with cooing pigeons. But the cry of a gull mixed with the fishy smell of the docks made Credence think. Maybe he shouldn’t stay in the city. Maybe he could get on one of the boats and just sail far away where no one could find him. 

In a way, he felt guilty at the thought of leaving Modesty, but he also remembered the way she looked at him. Even if he could find her, she wouldn’t want to see him again. 

Credence made up his mind and looked around for a boat that would be departing soon. He spied a freighter that was being loaded with crates and decided to test how far his invisibility could take him. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers poking out the bottom on one side, and he quickly walked towards the ramp where men were still loading cargo. No one looked at him once. 

There were passengers boarding to one side, or maybe they were crew. Credence wasn’t sure, but he knew he didn’t want to hide with too many eyes that could potentially spot him. He ventured to the higher stacks of crates, tucking himself into a corner that was dry enough and well hidden. 

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until a loud sound startled him awake. For a moment he thought he was back to in the monstrous form, but then he saw the stars above and he heard shouting from somewhere on deck. 

Credence scrambled to his feet, looking around for the source of the noise so he could move away from it. 

A shadow lurched in his periphery and Credence swung around. The air froze in his chest as he saw the figure stumbling away from the splintery remains of a crate. 

It looked at him, panting, swaying. “My name is Percival Graves,” the voice was similar but so much lower and pained than Credence ever heard. “I’ve been trapped here for...I don’t know.” 

The shouting came closer and Credence began to panic. This Mr. Graves looked different, dirty, with shaggy hair and an unkempt beard. Why was he like this? Had the people who attacked Credence attacked him as well? 

A light came from around the corner, and a man holding a lantern startled upon seeing them. 

“We aren’t here,” Credence said quickly, wishing hard like he did before; he was invisible, he was unnoticeable. He felt like he was praying fervently like the nights when he was young and only wanted to be a good boy so Ma wouldn’t have to punish him. “You don’t see anything.”

The man looked dazed, blinking rapidly for a moment before he frowned and held up the lantern. Credence held his breath, but the man simply looked around, eyes skimming over both of them before he shrugged and turned away. 

“A wizard,” Mr. Graves sighed, sinking to the ground. “Thank Mercy.” 

“Sir?” Credence said warily. 

“Director Graves, the real one. I don’t know how long I’ve been impersonated, but the dark wizard, Gellert Grindelwald has been assuming my identity,” Mr. Graves spoke rapidly, as if he was trying to say it all with one breath. 

Credence hesitated before he knelt before Mr. Graves. It was dark, but he was clearly in worse shape even than Credence. 

“I need help, please,” Mr. Graves looked at Credence, the dim light catching his eyes through his limply hanging hair. “Can you contact MACUSA?” 

Those were words and names from a world he didn’t get to see. But it seemed this man wasn’t at fault for that, if he was to be believed. It would be a good trick, if Mr. Graves or whatever wizard Credence met was trying to get his help. 

“I don’t know how, sir,” he whispered. “We’re on a ship. It’s already left.” 

Mr. Graves sagged, “shit."

“I’m sorry.” And truthfully, Credence meant it. This man looked like he’d been tortured and stuck in a crate. “Maybe the captain can radio someone?” Although that would mean revealing themselves, and he didn’t know how the captain would react to two stowaways. 

“No,” Mr. Graves said, beginning to sound weaker. “No, but if I could borrow your wand, I could-I could--” 

Credence caught Mr. Graves as he started to fall back, only to have the weight fall against him instead. His body was so limp that if Credence hadn’t felt Mr. Graves’ breath against his shoulder, he would have worried he’d simply expired. 

He shifted, trying to sit back so that he could lower Mr. Graves to the ground. He wasn’t sure what he would have done next beside sit quietly next to him. But then a light came from around the crates again, prompting Credence to turn. 

The brightness of the red hair and blue coat were stark in the bright light emanating from the tip of the man’s wand. Credence shrank back despite recognizing the wizard. 

He was staring at Credence with wide eyes that couldn’t seem to look at only one spot. He took a couple of steps before he noticed Mr. Graves on the ground. 

“Merlin’s beard,” he whispered. “Is that Director Graves?” 

Credence nodded, shifting slightly in front of Mr. Graves. He remembered them fighting, and kind as the wizard seemed, it felt wrong to leave Mr. Graves to his mercy. “He said,” Credence croaked, and he had to lick his lips and start again. “He said he was trapped.” 

“Kidnapped, yes,” the wizard moved even closer, setting down as suitcase as he knelt next to Credence and Mr. Graves. “The man you met was a very evil wizard who was impersonating him.” 

“Why?” Credence asked, watching the man wave his wand over Mr. Graves. 

“He, that is Director Graves, is a very important man for the magical government of the United States. He was presumed dead when I left, how did you find him?” 

Credence hadn’t meant to ask why the evil wizard impersonated Mr. Graves. He wanted to know why he’d been pulled into it. But this wizard seemed more interested in Mr. Graves. “I think he was in one of the shipping crates,” he said, pointing to the pile of splinters. “One of them exploded and he was here.” 

“I see, then Grindelwald was hiding him on the docks. Anyone or anything could get lost there…” He trailed off, muttering words that Credence didn’t recognize. 

The grime and dirt disappeared from Mr. Graves’ body, and his clothes began to slowly knit back together. It was like what the imposter did for Credence’s hands when Ma punished him. “Is he going to wake up?” Credence asked, itching to brush some Mr. Graves’ overly long hair off his face. 

“Perhaps. This was the best I can do for now, but I’ve some pepper up potion in my case.” The wizard reached for his suitcase and laid it open. “Would you mind helping me with him?” 

Credence looked between him and the case. “Help you, oh,” he gasped as the man simply disappeared into it. He crawled over and it was as though he was looking through a window into a room. 

The man was moving around, clearing a space and then waving his wand over it. Credence withheld another gasp when the table expanded and then shifted into a plain, little cot. 

“Get his head, and I’ll take his legs.”

Credence scrambled back as he emerged from the case up to his waist. He obediently went to prop Mr. Graves up so that he could lift him enough to be dragged into the room. 

“Slowly please,” came the wizard’s muffled voice. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t want to drop him on the stairs.” 

It was tricky, maneuvering Mr. Graves so that his broad shoulders could be eased through. Eventually, Credence was able to lower him mostly inside by his arms, and the wizard told Credence to stand back. 

Mr. Graves was abruptly weightless, floating down the rest of the way into the room. 

“What are you doing?” Credence poked his head through the opening and watched as Mr. Graves body settled gently on the cot. 

“Just a little charm,” the wizard gestured for him to come inside as well. “Don’t worry, Credence. I don’t mean your director any harm.” 

Mr. Graves hardly belonged to him. If everything was true, then he’d never even met the real Mr. Graves anyway. It was a relief even as the knowledge stung. One less person who betrayed him because they never actually knew each other. 

“Sir,” Credence began. 

“Oh please, call me Newt.” Newt paused, “I never introduced myself, did I?” 

Credence shook his head. 

“I apologize for that. Newt Scamander,” he paused, still fiddling with his wand, but he glanced towards Credence. “Do you...remember me?” 

“The subway,” Credence hunched his shoulders. “When I killed those people.” 

“No, Credence,” Newt squeezed his wand tightly. “None of that was your fault. Terrible people did evil things to you.” 

And the blackness inside him had come out. “I’m evil.” 

“You aren’t,” Newt said firmly, turning to Credence. “But you are magic, and you do need help. I meant what I said that night. I want to help you, if you would be willing to let me.” 

All of his life, that was all he wanted to hear. He felt his face contort from tears and he reached for Mr. Graves bare ankle. Someone had used this man’s face to make that offer to him. But this one was innocent of all the crimes that were committed that night. Much more innocent than Credence. 

“Help Mr. Graves first.” 


	2. Chapter 2

When awareness hit him again, the first thing Graves noticed was that he was no longer in pain. There was light coming from beyond his eyelids, he was lying on something soft, and there was a small weight resting next to his arm.

He cracked his eyes first, just enough to peer through his eyelashes. The room was mostly still, though there were noises from somewhere far away. He opened his eyes fully and lifted his head to look around. He was lying in a bed, in a room, and the wizard boy from before was sleeping next to him.

In the well lit room, Graves noted that he was older than previously assumed, and very pretty aside from the unfashionable haircut. Or perhaps that was the look that was ‘in’ with the youth.

Upon further investigation, someone had left a small table with a glass of water, and a note.

_Rehydrate, and please wake Credence if he’s still asleep._

Credence. Why did that name sound familiar? Graves pondered it as he sat up and drank from the glass. If Grindelwald had returned to trap him, the theatrics weren’t necessary. The water was room temperature, but still heaven to his parched mouth and throat.

He finished the glass, noting that it began to refill itself as he set it back down.

“Credence,” he said lowly, putting his hand to Credence’s shoulder. He was incredibly thin under his jacket. Perhaps he’d been a petty thief in New York, and Graves knew him from a criminal record. “Credence, wake up.”

At the touch Credence stirred, and he blinked up at Graves with big doe eyes. Then he suddenly jerked back, nearly falling out of his chair. “I fell asleep,” he said with distress.

“You did,” Graves said, holding up the slip of paper. “I found this note. It said to wake you.”

Credence nodded rapidly. “Newt. I should get him,” he stood, shifting on his feet, but still looking at Graves. “Are you okay, Mr. Graves? Are you feeling any better?”

Graves had felt better in his life, but he was a damn sight better than he was after breaking out of his prison.

“I’m tired,” he admitted. “Starving. But better, thanks to you and Newt.” That name sounded vaguely familiar too. “Any chance of meeting him as well?”

“Yes sir, he’s just tending to his creatures.” Credence bolted through one of the doorways at the edge of the room. It was covered by a sheet, but there appeared to be sunlight on the other side for the brief moment it was moved.

Graves frowned as what Credence said caught up with him. “Creatures?” he asked to the empty room.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but sitting up that much made it clear how dizzy he still felt. He didn’t bother trying to stand, instead reaching for his glass of water again. He had just finished it off when Credence returned, followed by a lanky, ginger haired man

“Newt, I presume,” Graves set his glass back down so he could offer his hand.

“Yes, Newt Scamander.” Ah, so that was why the name was familiar.

Graves nodded as they shook hands, “I knew your brother during the war.”

“He has a very high opinion of you, Director Graves,” Newt said, pulling back and hurriedly rolling his sleeves down. “He and many other people will be glad to hear that you’re alive.”

“You’ve sent word?”

“Yes, I have--acquaintances in New York.” Graves noticed that Newt’s eyes fidgeted, and never settled higher than his chin. “We’re too far out to sea to apparate, but there will be an escort waiting in London when we arrive.”  

Graves sighed with relief, running his hands through his hair. “I’m in your debt, Mr. Scamander.”

“Just Newt is fine, Director Graves.”

“Just Graves is fine,” Graves said with a dryly raised eyebrow. “And Credence, do I know you from somewhere?”

Credence looked like he was near tears, and he shook his head.

Graves didn’t need auror training to spot an obvious lie on the kid’s face, and he felt a sting of guilt that his lack of recollection hurt Credence’s feelings. Probably not a criminal then.

“I can catch you up if you like, over some food,” Newt cut in. He took Credence’s arm and led him to a counter that changed to a stove top with a wave of his wand.

Graves shifted so that he could lean his back against the wall. “Are you two previously acquainted?” Credence had been alone if Graves recalled correctly.

“He was a stowaway,” Newt answered over his shoulder as Credence hunched even further. “But we knew each other briefly in New York. I didn’t know he was on board until I found you both.”

“I didn’t mean for quite that entrance,” Graves said wearily. “Have the No-Majs been dealt with?”

“They decided it some of the cargo falling over.” Newt returned with a simple bit of bread, cheese, and cooked root vegetables floating over to land on a plate.  

“And what about in the city?”

“Credence,” Newt abruptly turned away. “Will you go visit Dougal?”

Credence cast one last look at Graves, and then he ducked back out.

“He had a rough time of it that past few days,” Newt explained, turning back. “As I understand it, Grindelwald took an interest in him and it was...bad.”

“And he wore my face, didn’t he?” Which would explain Credence’s reaction to him. As if Graves’ hatred for Grindelwald needed to grow.

“Yes. Please eat, I’ll tell you all I know.”

Graves managed to keep his interjections to a minimum while Newt recounted the events of his own visit to New York. Even the parts where his ‘creatures’ escaped in the city. But it was still a very upsetting tale.

“And the obscurus and obscurial were both killed?” He asked at last.

“Unfortunately, they couldn’t be saved,” Newt’s voice dropped. “We never were able to discover who it was.”

“An obscurial in America in this day and age,” Graves had to push the rest of his food away. The very idea that they had failed a child so completely was horrifying. “It’s unacceptable. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, it should not have,” Newt agreed. “But the Second Salemer woman is dead now. And I hope MACUSA will be more vigilant in the future.”

Graves didn’t respond to that. His department was more internal security and crimes, but he was going to raise all sorts of Hell when he returned. Someone somewhere had overlooked a magical child in a dangerous no-maj environment. So someone somewhere was going to burn if Graves had to go through every single personnel file himself.

“Get some more rest, sir. It’ll be about two weeks since this is a cargo ship, but after you return to New York, I think you’ll be very busy.”

“I think you’re right,” Graves drawled. “Thank you again for your help.”

  
He reclined back in the bed, feeling sated for the moment. The whole story was a lot to process, but he would need his strength to begin dealing with the mess that Grindelwald left behind. He listened to Newt putter, muttering about ‘swooping evil’ or something from time to time, before he drifted off again.  

* * *

Credence waited with Dougal until Newt came to fetch him again. He felt foolish for reacting the way he did with Mr. Graves finally awake and alert. He looked at Credence with the polite distance that one would treat a stranger with, a way the other Graves had never been toward him.

But he knew that this was the real Graves, the one that never met him.

“He’s sleeping again,” Newt said, taking Dougal from his arms. “Will you be alright with him?”

No, but Credence couldn’t picture a world in which he would be alright in general. “I think so. He doesn’t know who I am…”

“I thought that was for the best,” Newt nodded. “If he knows _you’re_ the obscurial then it would be his duty to arrest you, to take you back to MACUSA.”

The memory of all those wands, firing white, hot pain at him made Credence wilt. He wished Newt hadn’t taken the demiguise from him. “What did you tell him?”

“Most of what happened, but I left you out of it. As far as he knows, Grindelwald had some interaction with you, left you hurt, and that it wasn’t connected to the major events.”

“He’ll figure it out though, once he gets back.” Every wizard in New York had to know his name by that point, and the names of all the people he’d killed. Mr. Graves would go home and know that Credence killed his own ma.

“You’ll be long gone by then,” Newt lifted Dougal to climb back onto his perch and then looked hard at Credence. Well, as hard as Newt was capable of looking. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. But I’ll help you get somewhere safe, where you can work on your magic so that the obscurus won’t be able to feed on it.”

They’d spoken briefly about Newt’s theories on the blackness inside him. Although Credence still couldn’t completely shake the belief that it was simply his own wickedness. “Do you really think that practicing magic will help?”

“It may. This is all theoretical since no obscurial has ever survived to the point of being able to try. But it’s worth it, don’t you think?”

Credence thought of the room Newt had pointed out before, and told him not to enter. There was an obscurus floating in that room, one that had come from a Sudanese girl who died to the same thing that should have killed Credence years ago.

“If I stay, you’ll be able to study what happens to me, won’t you?” He watched Newt nod slowly. “And...and you might be able to help other people like me?”

“We could find a way to separate the parasite from the host,” Newt confirmed. “And if we know that, we can do it for others.”

How could Credence possibly deny that chance to future children if it was within his power to give it?

“You don’t have to answer me now,” Newt added kindly. “We have a while yet before we make it to London. Think about it.”

“I will,” Credence promised. It didn’t seem like there was much to really think about, but he didn’t want to seem as though he was taking the decision lightly.

Newt smiled, looking down at Dougal slipping away.

“Ah,” he said. “Off to check on the occamys, I’ll go with him. Be sure to get something to eat.”

With Mr. Graves asleep again, Credence felt less embarrassed about returning to his side. He nibbled at the bread as he sat back in the chair that he’d pulled up to the cot.

There was a difference between this Mr. Graves and the fake. Not just the obvious change of appearance, with the hair, beard, and weight loss. But something about the eyes were warmer, and a subtle way he shaped his vowels that Grindelwald simply hadn’t captured. Like a lingering accent in Mr. Graves’ voice instead of the sharp American impression that Grindelwald did. Credence wondered if he would have been able to tell the difference if he’d met the real Mr. Graves first.

Would the real Mr. Graves have been interested in helping him just for the sake of helping? It would have been nice, to feel those warm touches and hear those gentle words without the bitter aftertaste of the memory of betrayal.

Credence slowly ran the tips of his fingers across the back of Mr. Graves’ large hand. This hand would probably never slap him the way the dark wizard did. It would lift to protect a poor boy who only wanted to be good.

Not knowing where the gall came from, Credence curled his fingers around Mr. Graves’ hand and held it tight. He never got to hold hands like this, except perhaps when Modesty reached for him. No, this was different, and in a sinful way, much better.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Credence jumped, but Mr. Graves held him fast when he began to flinch away. He was looking up at Credence with an unreadable expression.

It felt as though his tongue was too large to move properly. Credence made a small noise, staring down at their hands in shame.

“He looked like me, didn’t he?” Graves asked solemnly.

“...He tried,” Credence admitted. “But it wasn’t you, Mr. Graves. You don’t need to be forgiven.”

“I should have been able to stop whatever he did to you.” Mr. Graves squeezed his hand harder. “It’s my fault that he got to you at all.”

Someone like Mr. Graves, the clear antithesis to a dark wizard, should not sound so guilty. “He wasn’t the first bad thing to happen to me,” Credence said earnestly. “But--but it’s over. And I’m very glad to be here, right now.”

Mr. Graves watched him closely, before the furrow eased from his brow and he lessened his grip. “You must be some kind of angel, Credence.”

“I’m not,” he protested.

“Certainly look like one,” Graves’ eyes were shut as he yawned, and he missed the way Credence pinkened. “Will you speak with me later?”

“Of course, sir,” Credence gulped, glancing down at their hands one more time. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Credence was very beautiful. Graves felt like a horrible man for noticing when the light hit Credence in a flattering way, or when his eyelashes fluttered if he caught Graves staring at him.

Graves hadn’t brought up New York again. Considering Credence had stowed away on a cargo ship, he probably wanted to leave New York behind. For his silence, Graves found the quirk of Credence’s lips more often turned to smiles over the coming days. But then he only noticed Credence’s beauty more, and in turn, he felt worse.

At least they weren’t constantly alone. Newt would come and go, often murmuring quietly to or about his creatures. He was as gentle to them as he was to Credence, and if he wasn’t such a twitchy fellow, Graves might have felt a bit jealous. Theseus had been a popular man for the short time he served with Graves overseas, but Newt, while pleasant, shared few similarities.

“I’m feeling much better now,” he announced to Newt and Credence one morning as he stood on his own feet without horrible pain. “As much as I appreciate the use of your living space, I need to stretch my legs.”

“Ah, well,” Newt glanced doubtfully up at the trap door that led out of his case.

“Not on deck,” Graves corrected. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d actually like to have a look at your creatures.”

Newt’s entire body seemed to hunch into itself, as if he was splinching under a particularly poorly put together spell. “Mr. Graves,” he said hesitantly. “I collect these creatures to study how to protect them.”

“I understand,” Graves said. “I don’t plan to attack any of them, Mr. Scamander. Maybe you or Credence could show me around, make sure everything stays under control.” Graves wasn’t completely confident in his ability to protect himself from the unknown beasts in Newt’s case without his wand.

“I could,” Credence said, hardly looking up from his mug of tea. “The places you showed me would be safe for Mr. Graves, wouldn’t they?”

Newt looked between them. “I suppose you haven’t anything Niffler would steal,” he said slowly. “Just keep away from the erumpent area, please.”

Credence nodded eagerly, and it was enough to keep Graves from demanding to know where Newt got an erumpent.

After eating, Newt handed Credence a bucket and told him to “start with something simple.” Graves followed Credence through a labyrinth of varying ecosystems that he had no time to gape at.

“I don’t even want to think of how many extending charms are stretching this case,” he muttered as they crossed into a night area.

“See there?” Credence pointed up a small hill, where many creatures were all turned toward the large, artificial moon in the sky. “Those are mooncalves.”

He clicked his tongue while rattling what appeared to be food pellets in the bucket. Suddenly countless luminescent eyes turned towards them, and the mooncalves descended the hill with joyous bleats.

Credence grabbed a handful of the pellets and tossed them into the air, where they hung suspended until the mooncalves jumped up and snatched them down.

Graves couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as he watched Credence pet one. “They look like you,” he said.

Credence gave him a wide eyed look that only further proved Graves’ point, and made him smile again.

“You give a lot of compliments,” Credence said, holding the bucket up to his chest.

The thing was, Graves didn’t normally dole out compliments quite so readily. But he found it happened without even trying in Credence’s presence, driven by the simple enjoyment of watching him react. Therein lied the rub. Graves was a horrible man, who fresh out of imprisonment and into the limbo of the ship, liked making a pretty boy blush. If he had any sense, he would start taking his situation a bit more seriously.

“They’re only compliments if you like to be told you’re cute,” Graves pointed out.

He was an old fool. But the sound Credence made, which had the mooncalves all bleating back at him, was worth it.

“Let’s keep going,” Credence said as he tossed the rest of the food into the air. “Unless you need a rest?”

“I’m fine. Honestly, I’m ecstatic for the chance to move around,” Graves stretched his arms as he fell into step beside Credence. “There wasn’t much room in my prison, as I’m sure you can imagine, and I was starting to go a little stir crazy being stuck in a bed.”

“You should still take care of yourself, Mr. Graves,” Credence mumbled.

“Exercise is taking care of myself, Credence.” Graves glanced down at himself with a grimace. His clothes and body were mended and cleaned with magic, but he could feel something below the surface that nothing but a fresh wardrobe and a hot shower would fix. Even then, it would be time before he was back to his original weight and muscle mass. “I didn’t always look like a ghoul, you know.”

  
“You don’t--” Credence protested, looking offended and ill.

“I look like shit, Credence,” Graves interrupted. “Denying it won’t make it untrue.”

“I’m sorry.”

Graves sighed, he hadn’t meant to make the boy feel bad. “No need to apologize for noticing the obvious,” he said. “Not after everything you’ve done to help me so far, including babysitting me.”

“I’m not babysitting you, Mr. Graves,” Credence said quietly. “You’re so--” he trailed off, hunching his shoulders.

“No, please, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Credence paused, causing Graves to stop as well, and stared down at his feet. “You’re so self deprecating.”

“I suppose I have been lately,” Graves admitted. He was angry at himself for being captured and held for so long by Grindelwald, and frustrated that he was stuck on a ship, unable to do anything but wait to reach London. Even if he knew that the crisis was over, it felt as though he should be doing _something_. “It’s been a tough month.”

Credence looked at him sideways with a sardonic smile. Mercy Lewis but he was beautiful.

* * *

He had worried that it would be difficult to separate the fake Mr. Graves with the real one, once he was up and walking around. But the difference between the two of them was so stark, Credence was baffled that anyone had been fooled. Although he had no real frame of reference for how the real Mr. Graves usually acted, maybe he was too ready to believe he wouldn’t have been fooled.

Newt was talking softly to his bowtruckles as Credence led Mr. Graves into their enclosure.

“We’re finished with the feeding,” Credence said, holding the empty bucket up for Newt to see. There were plenty more beasts that could do for a snack, but he wasn’t sure which Newt would be comfortable showing Mr. Graves.

Thus far, it was all magically foreign to Credence, but Newt’s twitchiness had increased since Mr. Graves woke up, and was visibly noticeable with Mr. Graves wandering around amongst the creatures.

“I was cleared to take all the entire case,” Newt said to Mr. Graves, confirming his nerves. “President Picquery herself told me to get it out of her city.”

“That sounds like her,” Mr. Graves said dryly. “Don’t worry Mr. Scamander, I don’t plan on acting with authority I may not even have anymore unless you commit a felony in front of me.”

“No felonies, I assure you.”

“Wonderful, then I’m ready for a rest and another scourgify if you don’t mind.”   

Newt smiled, and flourished his wand, repeating the word. Credence didn’t notice any real difference to Mr. Graves, but he straightened and nodded back. “Thank you, Mr. Scamander.”

“I’ve asked you to call me Newt.”

“I’ll drop the formalities when you do.” Mr. Graves stuck his hands into his pockets and strolled away.

Credence stared after him, unaccustomed to such a jaunty attitude. Newt had to break his distraction with a hand on his elbow and a reminder that Mr. Graves probably didn’t know where he was going. Credence hurried after him.

“I didn’t mean to keep you out for too long,” he said apologetically.

“It wasn’t exactly a marathon,” said Mr. Graves. “Even if it’s the most walking I’ve done in weeks. You’re fine.”

“Still, I should have thought of it.” Credence fidgeted, realizing belatedly that he’d left the bucket with Newt. Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder, and he jumped.

Mr. Graves grimaced, his hand falling back down to his side. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Credence. You’ve been a lot of help the past couple of days, if only because you’re easier to talk to than Newt.”

Credence’s stomach fluttered and he lowered his head to hide his smile. “Thank you, Mr. Graves,” he said. “You’re...you’re a lot nicer than _he_ was.”

“I should fucking hope so,” Mr. Graves snorted.

The casual way that Mr. Graves acted about Grindelwald set Credence at ease. The man had seemed so powerful and larger than life when Credence interacted with him, the very memory cast a shadow. But the real Mr. Graves was like a bright light that dispelled the grip on Credence’s mind. It made him feel brave.

Mr. Graves held the fabric that acted as a separator aside for Credence to go into the living space first.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered as Mr. Graves laid back down on the cot with a sigh.  

“I am too,” Mr. Graves said, staring up at the ceiling. His good humor was gone, and his eyes were dark and solemn. “To be honest, I thought I was as good as dead.”

“How did you get out?”

Mr. Graves frowned, and Credence immediately tensed. He shouldn’t have asked, it wasn’t his business. He knew very little about magic anyway, so it wasn’t as though he would understand much of an answer. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to say.”

“I’m not angry at you. I’m annoyed at myself.” Mr. Graves’ face softened and he looked at Credence. “I broke through his magic. I think it was weakened when he was captured, and I was able to break the wards. There isn’t much to the story beyond a desperate man.”

Credence could understand desperation. He nodded slowly, moving to sit next to the bed. “You can rest if you want. I’ll wake you when there’s food.”

“I’m not tired enough to sleep yet. But I can entertain myself if you’re tired of me.”

“No!” Credence clamped his mouth shut, but Mr. Graves toothy grin didn’t show any offense at his outburst. “I mean, I’m not tired of you, Mr. Graves.”

“Just Graves.”

Credence sighed, “I’ll try.”

“So tell me about yourself,” Graves tucked his hands behind his head. “I know you aren’t fond of your past in New York, but where are you going now? What are you planning to do?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t have a plan.” He just wanted to get away from the pain.

“You just ended up in the same place as me,” Graves said. “It’s almost like fate.”

Credence didn’t know why, but the statement made him blush. “That’s a lot kinder than fate has been to me,” he said softly. Going from being so ready to die, to finding the real Mr. Graves who, by some miracle, was gentle and warm. It was almost terrifying to believe. He looked up to see Mr. Graves regarding him thoughtfully. “What is it?”

“Nothing much,” said Mr. Graves. “You cut a very tragic figure, and I hope one day you’re able to smile more.”

Credence’s lips curled involuntarily. “I’m smiling more and more lately...Graves.”

“Dangerously charming,” Mr. Graves hummed. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you, Credence.”

“You’ll be very bored.”

“ _That_ I very much doubt.” Mr. Graves closed his eyes and sighed. “I may be more tired than I thought. But I’ll start keeping an eye on you after a nap.”

“Sweet dreams,” Credence mumbled, watching the way the light caught in the silver dusting Mr. Graves’ beard. He recalled that the other one had grey at the temples, but he never would have thought it’d show so much in his facial hair. Perhaps it was another ill effect of being captured.

It didn’t change how handsome he was though. So rugged and mature, but with dark eyelashes and a brow that gentled so much when he relaxed, he took Credence’s breath away even more than before.

“Are you staring at me?” Mr. Graves asked with his eyes still closed.

Credence turned beet red. “No,” he squeaked.

“So if I open my eyes, you aren’t going to be looking at me?” Mr. Graves peeked with one eye and grinned when he spotted Credence.  

“I’m sorry,” Credence said hastily. “I’ll go.”

“I don’t mind,” Mr. Graves assured him, brushing his fingers against Credence’s bony wrist. “We can talk about it later. Figure out how to exist in close quarters without it getting awkward.”

Credence looked down at him doubtfully. “Without what getting awkward?”

Mr. Graves looked away, clearing his throat. “Our mutual attraction. Obviously I have my work that’ll take me back to the place you ran away from. I won’t press you for more information, but I think we can both agree that now isn’t the time to explore something new.”

_Mutual attraction._ As in Mr. Graves noticed, and Mr. Graves felt it too. Credence could barely inhale, let alone answer, and he stared at Mr. Graves with his mouth agape.

“Oh Hell, and now I’m talking about it,” Mr. Graves pulled his hand back and rubbed his forehead. “Later Credence, I didn’t expect to have to address this, and I’d like to be a little more prepared.”

“I...see…” Credence answered faintly. “I’ll go, I’ll, uhm, sleep well, Mr. Graves.” He hurried out, sure that the moment he stopped moving his feet would fall out from under him.

* * *

Later didn’t come, and as much as Graves wasn’t looking forward to it, he did feel bitter that Newt seemed hesitant to leave he and Credence alone. He had been assured in the beginning that Credence was in his early twenties, so as an adult, surely he was entitled to a private conversation with Graves.

It wasn’t as though the topic was particularly salacious. If anything, Graves was being kind to everyone involved for keeping it between him and Credence only. He was skittish as a rabbit as it was, how much worse would if be if he was embarrassed in front of both of his traveling companions.

Righteously indignant thoughts firmly in mind, Graves allowed only two days of forced silence before he snuck away behind Newt’s back to catch Credence among the mooncalves.

He was hunched low at the shoulders, stroking one’s wool and crooning so softly under his breath that Graves couldn’t even make out the melody as he approached.

The mooncalf appeared to hear it well enough though. It stared up at Credence adoringly with its massive, luminescent eyes.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were already Mr. Scamander’s assistant keeper,” Graves said to announce his presence.

Credence jumped and whirled around to face him. The mooncalf hopped the other way, going to join the rest of its flock on the hill.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves, I didn’t see you,” Credence said. His posture reverted back to their first day, closed off and fragile with his gaze fixed on the ground.  

Graves wilted slightly with guilt. “I didn’t mean to scare you so much,” he said, stopping several feet away with his hands non-threateningly in his trouser pockets. “I hoped we could talk.”

“If I offended you--”

“That wasn’t it.” Graves didn’t want to let Credence go down another self deprecating train of thought. It would be unproductive, especially considering their privacy only lasted as long as Newt stayed out of the way. “It’s safe to say that we’ve been sharing a lot of space this past week. In fact, you and Newt are the first friendly faces I’ve seen in much longer than that.”

Credence looked up at him from hesitantly, and Graves took it as a decent enough sign.

“I’ve never been in the habit of mincing words, and I won’t start now. You’re a very beautiful man, Credence, and you don’t give me a headache. Whether or not the extenuating circumstances have contributed to that, it sets you apart from most people in my previous life.” Especially Abernathy when he was in one of his more sycophantic moods. “I’m attracted to you, and I believe you are attracted to me. Am I correct?”

Credence’s eyes had gone almost round as he stared at Graves, and red covered his face. Graves took that as an affirmative, but he was still on shaky ground.

“I don’t know if you followed any gossip rags in New York, but if you did you’d know I’ve never been very interested in romantic entanglements. I never had the time or interest in making an effort. So, even if we weren’t currently stowing away on a cargo ship to London, I can’t say this would have any hope of working. I don’t want to start something that’s doomed by my very personality.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Credence said. His voice was so quiet, but it shook in such a dissonant way that it cut through the rest of Graves’ speech. “I didn’t expect anything.”

Graves sighed, he wasn’t good at delicate, but he was at least diplomatic when shooting down hopeful rookies at work. But he’d still managed to hurt Credence’s feelings. “Look at me, Credence,” he said, spreading his arms. His recovery was coming along well, but he was still clearly a pale, raggedy shadow of his old self. “I’m practically a corpse left behind by Grindelwald. I know you can do much better once you’re in better company.”

“Don’t,” Credence snapped.

“Credence,”

“Don’t insult yourself!” Credence’s bangs covered his eyes, but his hands were clenched into fists and shaking. “It was his fault. He did this to you. I thought,” something wet dripped from Credence’s chin. “I thought it would be better now. He ruins _everything_.”

“Shit.” More happened than Newt had let on. Graves could kick himself, he should have noticed right away. All he could do was step forward and wrap Credence in his arms. Even with an inch in height over him, Credence curled around Graves’ shoulder and into the embrace with a broken sound.

Graves shushed him quietly. One hand ran gently up and down his back while his other arm kept Credence firmly against. “He did a number on you, didn’t he?” He whispered with his cheek pressed against Credence’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Credence didn’t sob, so much as his breath hitched every now and then as Graves’ shirt became wetter and wetter.

He heard footsteps behind him, but Graves was relieved that Newt had the good sense not to interfere.

“You’re real now,” Credence said, still pressed against him. “You’re real now, Mr. Graves. He was fake.”

“He was,” Graves agreed, watching the mooncalves stare past them at the fake moon. “Did you call him that?”

“Mr. Graves?”

“Yes, that.” Graves scowled, and his hand paused between Credence’s shoulder blades. “You’ve been calling us the same name.”

“But he, he used your name.”

Obviously, Graves knew that. But somehow, he didn’t figure that the connection might make it harder for Credence. Another shortcoming that he was going to blame on his recovery. He leaned back, and lifted a hand to cup Credence’s chin so that he tilted his face up. “Would it be better to call me something else?”

Credence’s eyelashes fluttered as he struggled not to look Graves in the eye. “Like what?”

“How about my first name. Call me Percival.” No one in the world called him Percival, and everyone knew it. Graves highly doubted that Grindelwald would have been such a tool as to extend the privilege while absconding with his appearance.  

“Percival,” Credence repeated, and his sorrowful mouth finally twitched toward a smile. “Like the knight.”

“So I’ve heard,” Graves smarmed.

“It suits you,” Credence wiped his cheeks, seeming to have calmed. “I’m sorry for yelling...Percival. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for what he did. Even if you don’t, um, want to…”

“This and that are different.” He hoped. Because if somehow, someway, Graves got the notion into his head to pursue someone half his age and clearly damaged, he wouldn’t dare if he knew Grindelwald inflicted unwanted attentions on them. “But if our paths are diverging in London, I think it would be better if we were just ships passing in the night.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Then, with the thought that Credence deserved something, Graves leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

It was a horribly stupid thing to do. Because when he leaned back, he was treated to such a close look of Credence’s pretty blush and moonlit eyes. Even if he didn’t move, he didn’t resist when Credence leaned in again to brush the softest kiss over his lips.

His insides warmed to the point of boiling, and he felt like a foolish schoolboy, twitterpated over a first crush. It was intensely embarrassing for a man on the wrong side of 40.

“Thank you,” Credence breathed, staring at him with half lidded eyes. “Even if we’re ships; thank you.”

Newt chose that moment to clear his throat.

Well fuck, Graves hoped he’d left and come back.

* * *

Credence wondered if he’d died at some point during his and Mr. Graves’ conversation. He’d never felt so mortified but also so light at the same time. So that was a kiss; he could see why people liked it so much.

If only Newt hadn’t seen them.

He tore away from Mr. Graves and dashed around Newt with his head low. Surely Newt wouldn’t let them stay in his case if he knew they were both inverts. Maybe Mr. Graves was important enough to warrant clemency, but not Credence.

Credence stumbled into the work space, panting harshly. Where would he go if he couldn’t stay? Maybe he should just return to New York with Mr. Graves. If Newt threw him out, he would put himself on the mercy of the wizards back home. Surely that would be better than wandering the streets of a different country with the monster inside him unchecked.

“Credence, please wait.” Newt’s lilting accent felt like a blow.

“I’m sorry,” Credence whimpered, sliding down to his knees. He expected to be struck at any moment for his sins, and it was his own fault. The warmth of Mr. Graves had proved far too tempting for his fallen nature.

“Now, now,” Newt’s voice was close, as if he’d knelt down as well, but Credence was too scared to raised his head. “Don’t worry, Credence. I’m sure Graves didn’t take any offense. Except to me, of course.”

“I...you saw,” Credence said.

“I did. And I apologize for intruding, but I thought it might be dangerous to get too close, considering the obscurus.”

The fear was beginning to give way to confusion. It sounded as though Newt hadn’t even realized what he saw. “I kissed him,” he confessed softly.

Newt was quiet for several moments and Credence felt the weight of his gaze. It was heavy, being looked at after so many years of people’s eyes sliding over him without seeing.

“Credence,” Newt said, in the sort of voice he’d used in the subway in New York. “Are you frightened of me right now?”

Credence hunched his shoulders and nodded once.

“I see. You shouldn’t be frightened, Credence. I’m not upset, and I won’t hurt you.” Newt shifted, drawing Credence’s eyes. He was sitting in on the floor as well, looking vaguely nonplussed. “I forget some of the prejudices that muggles have sometimes. But kissing, that is between yourself and Mr. Graves, it isn’t wrong in the way you’re thinking.”

Credence quailed, “but it’s wrong?”

“No, not, not in the way you’re thinking,” Newt stammered quickly. “Just, considering the obscurial and that Graves is the Director of Security within MACUSA, it’s better not to get very attached.”

That did make sense, and in a way, it was similar to what Mr. Graves had been saying. They only had another week on the cargo ship, and then he would say goodbye to Mr. Graves forever. Credence was a murderer; even if Newt could remove the monster from him, it didn’t change anything.

“He’s gentle,” he said, staring at the scuff on the toe of Newt’s left shoe. “Much more gentle than the fake one.”

“He’s more different than I thought he might be,” said Newt. “But he is a much better man than Gellert Grindelwald could ever be. If things were different, I don’t think I’d discourage you.”

If things were different, there was no way Credence would have even had the chance to speak with Mr. Graves. At the very least, he could be grateful for that, and he would always have the memory of his first kiss.

He looked up from the shoe and offered a smile. “You’re kind too. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Newt returned the smile even as he broke eye contact. “No thanks necessary, Credence. I’m happy to help. Now,” Newt stood, tugging at his rolled sleeves. “You wait here, have some water. I’ll go check on Mr. Graves.”

Credence nodded. He hadn’t noticed that he started crying, but he could feel the telltale throb of the headache that always followed if he didn’t drink water after. He waited until Newt was gone to fill a glass, and he leaned against the steps as he sipped it slowly.

Every now and then over the passing days, he’d heard noises from up top. He wondered at where Newt left the case when he came down below. Surely it wouldn’t safe to leave it out in the open. Maybe he was in shared quarters?

Despite his fear at being caught, Credence sometimes longed to see other sights on the ship. At the very least, the freedom to come and go would have been nice when he felt suffocated by Mr. Graves’ presence.

The feeling would come at random times. Mr. Graves wouldn’t do anything in particular, but very suddenly it would feel like he’d filled the room beyond capacity. Credence was always hyper vigilant, and those moments left him feeling overstimulated and raw.

It had felt that way when he left to visit the mooncalves. Their nighttime habitat was quiet, and their wool was soft and comforting. He was calm when Mr. Graves followed him, and it had felt so good to be receptive to his attentions, even if it came with a preemptive rejection.

Credence blushed, touching the glass to his lips. He had always noticed how handsome Mr. Graves was, but every interaction had been on the fake Mr. Graves’ terms. Even the briefs hugs or healing touches were done to him. Never had Credence thought he would be granted something like a kiss.

There had been little time to take in any sensation beyond the brief heat and the scratch of beard, but he still felt a flutter in his stomach. How nice it had been.

He drained the glass and set it down. He should stop thinking that way. It would never be repeated, even if he wished for it. He was in a precarious situation, and could potentially drag Newt down as well, if he was caught harboring a fugitive. Credence couldn’t do that.

He took a deep breath and held it for three seconds before exhaling slowly. He would be cordial with Mr. Graves, but he wouldn’t overstep any boundaries. He knew how to walk this line, even if it was with an impostor. He could do this.

Please God, let him be able to do this.

* * *

The next few days were awkward as Hell, and Graves knew it was all his fault. Newt had come back to collect him after chasing after Credence, but hadn’t spoken a word about what he’d witnessed. When Graves tried to bring it up, to know just how big a fool he’d made of himself, Newt simply said that Credence was an adult.

As if Newt hadn’t been babying Credence since the moment Graves woke up.

But Graves decided to leave it at that. When he saw him again, Credence was clearly still embarrassed, but had also not mentioned it again. In a way, it was a best case scenario. Despite his best intentions, Graves suffered a lapse in judgement, but they were all moving past in unscathed.

If he’d been able to leave, it probably would have been a minor blip. Except he was stuck there, and so was Credence, and Newt couldn’t stay in the case all the time.

So, during the times when Newt had to leave, and Credence and Graves were left alone without a buffer, it was awkward.

At one point, Graves was trying to focus on reading Newt’s second draft of Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, which was a bit of a mouthful in his opinion, and Credence was peeling potatoes on the other side of the room.

The subject matter of the book was interesting enough, but Graves couldn’t stop himself from glancing up. More often than not, he caught Credence’s own furtive glances.

The silence stretched painfully, with Graves on the same page for far too long, and Credence only finishing two potatoes.

“I wish I was better at giving you space,” Graves said, finally fed up with his own behavior.

Credence dropped his barely started third potato and looked up.

“It’s times like this that I miss my office. Although, that makes it sounds like a hiding place. It wasn’t, it was a place of authority,” Graves gave a crooked smile because he recalled almost running to his office at least once. “I also had my own coffee pot, much better than the regular stuff.”

When he looked, Credence had picked up the potato and was pressing his lips together. His posture was more relaxed though, so Graves hoped it was a repressed smile or some other positive sign.

“I’m sure your office was impressive,” Credence said, tapping the flat edge of his knife against the broad side of his potato. “I only saw him outside, but he--or you maybe?--always stood out.”

Graves wasn’t excited about the comparison, but he took it without comment. “I was raised to take great care of my appearance,” he admitted.

“He seemed careful too,” Credence said, and Graves hid a flinch. “I didn’t know you, so I didn’t know at the time, but he was always so vague about the things he said. And cruel. I’m glad to have gotten to meet you,” he looked at Graves thoughtfully. “I’m grateful that I got to see the real you.”

That was a funny thing to hear, considering Graves didn’t feel like his real self. “How did the two of you meet?”

Credence flinched so abruptly that it almost startled Graves. And then he was back to hunching over, looking for all the world like an abused kitten. Graves repressed a groan and tried again. “Or, instead of that, did you leave any family in New York.”

If anything, Credence looked more distraught, his knuckles turned white from how hard he was clutching the potato.

“I’d...rather not talk about it,” he whispered.

Mercy Lewis, was there any topic that wasn’t a minefield? “That’s fine,” Graves said, keeping his tone conversational. “I don’t generally have a lot to say about my family. After we immigrated from Cork County in Ireland, well,” everyone knew the story of the Graves family after that.

“Is your whole family magic?”

Or at least, Graves thought everyone knew. He was descended from one of the twelve original aurors from the founding of MACUSA, and at least one of his siblings was in the Daily Ghost every month.

“Yes,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “All of us are wizards, and most of us were Wampus Cat at Ilvermorny.”

“Ilvermorny,” Credence repeated. “The school. Newt told me he went to...Hogwarts?”

If he didn’t go to Ilvermorny, and really he didn’t even sound familiar with it, Credence probably wasn’t from the East Coast. Maybe he was a runaway then, from a family to the west or south.

But, unwilling to deflate Credence again, Graves kept the curiosity at bay. “Hogwarts,” he scoffed. “It has nothing on Ilvermorny.”

“Is that so?” Credence had finally set down the potato and knife, and he leaned forward. “Why is that?”

“The school spirit for one. Come here,” Graves patted the bed next to him. “I’m going to do something, and it had better stay between us.” The implication of that only set in as Credence turned red.

Obediently, Credence moved to sit beside him. Graves glanced toward the stairs and then in a low voice, he sang the school song. Credence’s eyes went round, and they sparkled until the very last note.

He clapped quietly, smiling wider than Graves had ever seen. The thought struck Graves that reaching London was going to be even more bittersweet than he’d expected.

* * *

Credence felt like he was in the midst of an emotional tornado with Mr. Graves. But still, being sung to was almost as nice as being kissed. He spent the rest of the evening so giddy that he might have skipped if Newt hadn’t invited him to see the occamys.

Mr. Graves stayed behind, citing his reading but giving Credence a wink. Credence wasn’t sure what he was supposed to read from that, but he beamed nonetheless.

“I’ve spoken to the Captain,” Newt said, stopping before they reached the nest. “We’ll be arriving in London tomorrow, probably sooner rather than later. I’ve been told aurors will be waiting.”

The winds must have been good to get them there early, or maybe Credence had simply miscounted the days. Either way, it felt that their time was coming to an end far too soon.

“I doubt Graves will expect you to meet with them, so we’ll have time to change your appearance a bit.” Newt continued, as if Credence hadn’t all but withered in front of him. “New clothes and hair in Diagon Alley should do the trick before we leave London.”

Credence blinked. “Percival won’t wonder where we’re going?”

“Well, no, we’ll be parting ways at the dock, Credence. Once he leaves the case, you won’t see him again.”

“Oh.” It was foolish to feel blindsided by something he’d known was coming from the very beginning. But his blossoming companionship with Mr. Graves was going to meet an abrupt end, and Credence felt the sting of the loss. “Alright.”

Newt had finally seemed to catch on that Credence wasn’t entirely pleased, and he shifted unsurely. “I’m sorry,” he said hesitantly.

Credence shook his head. “No, you’re doing so much for me. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful.” He looked toward the nest, the occamys still scared him a little, as they were prone to pecking at him. “Is it alright if I go see the mooncalves instead?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course.”  

Among the many things Credence found himself grateful for over the past weeks, it was Newt’s unwavering patience.

He turned, leaving the jungle habitat to find the cool, dark nighttime hill. He was moving so quickly that he was at the beginning of the slope before he realized that Mr. Graves was sitting in the herd. Was this what he was supposed to deduce from the wink?

A fond smile spread across his face. “Are they growing on you?” he asked.

“They are” Mr. Graves was staring up at the sky. He patted the ground next to him, and Credence climbed the slope and obediently sat. “It’ll be goodbye soon,” Mr. Graves said. “But maybe you could write me sometime, let me know how you’re doing?”

“That would be nice.” Credence wondered if Mr. Graves hadn’t miscounted their days, and knew they’d be parting tomorrow. He wished he could write, even if Mr. Graves would know who and what he really was upon returning home. “Will you remember me when you go back?”

“Yes,” Mr. Graves said seriously. The tone was somewhat undercut by the fact that he looked like he’d heard a joke at his own expense, and it was as cutting as it was hilarious. “This has been a strange trip.”

Credence nodded.

“I figured I was as good as dead for so long, and then I’ve been here, still practically dead to the world. Except you.”

And Newt, but Credence didn’t mention that. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said.

Mr. Graves smiled, and turned away from the stars to regard Credence. What a dangerous thing it was, to be so close to that smile. His legs had practically been noodles when they spoke before, but even that he’d managed to keep his composure and his wits. But between the moon, the quiet, and the parting that is hanging over their heads, he was feeling foolish again.

“I’m going to miss you, Percival,” he whispered. “Every day.”

“Me too.” Graves wrapped an arm around Credence’s shoulders and pulled him to lean against him. Credence let himself be positioned, and he rested his head on Mr. Graves’ shoulder.  

He promised himself that he was only going to be a fool for one more night.

* * *

The next day came quickly. Graves had only just finished a meager lunch with Credence before Newt came charging into the case to announce that the ship would be docking soon.

“I’m told that you should be expecting an Auror Santiago and Auror Jeffords?” Newt fidgeted in the background while Graves tried to shave in peace.

“I know those names,” Graves confirmed after carefully moving the borrowed blade down his cheek. He was fine with magically trimming his hair, but he still preferred his own hands for shaving.

The past two weeks had been very kind, and now groomed he looked far more like his old self, if a bit threadbare. The thought of seeing some of his old subordinates brought back a wave of shame that he hadn’t experienced while agonizing over not inadvertently terrifying Credence. He was again reminded that he’d been a hostage, not even a bystander, while Grindelwald brought havoc and chaos to his city.

Once Newt had left, Graves found he had to contend with Credence skulking around with a mournful look. They had once again found themselves with some privacy, likely for the last time, so decided to cast aside his reservations. He caught Credence about the waist and pulled him in for a tight bear hug.

Credence squeaked, but then he slowly relaxed into the hold, winding his arms around Graves’ neck. They stood in the middle of the room, hugging without speaking.

Graves hadn’t realized how badly he would need a lifeline when he got out of that crate. But there he was, clinging to Credence, who was still a veritable stranger. He was going to be busy, there wasn’t going to be room in his life beyond work, thanks to Grindelwald. But he did hope that Credence would write at least once.

There was a crack of light from the top of the stairs, and Newt’s voice whispered down, “I’m disembarking now. It’ll be a few more minutes.”

Graves sighed and stepped back from Credence to cup his face. “Thank you for being here, Credence. I hope the world treats you better from here on out.”

Credence gave him a wobbly smile.

They sat quietly together on the bed, similar to before. But this time Graves didn’t sing, he just let the silence settle comfortably around them until Newt opened the case again.

“Mr. Graves,” he called down. “We’re ready for you, if you would be so kind.”

Graves stood and looked at Credence. “Coming up?”

Credence gazed balefully up at the opening. “Do I have to?”

“No, I suppose not.” He wanted to say more, wanted to convey that as brief as their connection was, it meant a lot to him. But it wouldn’t be much more than lip service, and Graves wouldn’t be disrespectful in that way. “Goodbye Credence.”

“Goodbye Percival.”

Graves felt weary as he climbed the stairs. He emerged into a nondescript room with one door, two windows with the curtains drawn, and three other wizards waiting for him. He sighed, fully emerging and he greeted his aurors with a nod.

Newt closed the case behind him, not questioning Credence’s lack of appearance. Graves stopped paying attention to him when his aurors drew their wands.

They cast revelio first, and Graves recalled Newt recounting how he undid Grindelwald’s disguise before. They allowed Newt to test them as well before the interview began.

Graves answered all sorts of questions, ranging from his family, his team, and the minor aspects of his personal life that his aurors would have been privy to. He knew there would be more when he arrived back at home, and he hoped they would have a decency to at least provide a chair at that time.

Eventually, the whole atmosphere of the room changed, and Auror Jeffords removed his hat.

“Sir,” he said, looking near tears. “We thought you were dead. It’s good to have you back.” At those words, the far door opened, and several other aurors entered. They had clearly been waiting outside, in case Graves was another impostor who tried to make a break for it.

He approved the caution. Better late than never, he supposed.

“I’m not back quite yet,” he said wryly.

Auror Santiago smiled in return, and stepped forward, producing a long thin box with a swish of her wand. “We’ve brought your wand, sir. Grindelwald wasn’t able to use it, and it’s already been cleared by investigations.”

No doubt they’d been planning to deliver it to his next of kin.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as he accepted the box and removed the lid. There it was, just as he remembered, perfectly familiar in his hand again.

“Am I free to leave?” Newt piped up from outside the group.

Graves raised his eyebrows to Jeffords, who nodded in turn. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Scamander. It seems the debt MACUSA owes you is still growing.”

“Happy to help,” Newt replied with a twitchy smile. “Be well, Mr. Graves.”

“You too, Mr. Scamander. I look forward to reading your book.”

There was a lot that needed to happen once they left that room. But, Graves was wearing the same magically cleaned clothes he’d been wearing since the first night, and Newt’s facilities only offered so much. The first thing he asked for was a decent shower and a change of clothes.

Looking in the mirror after both requests had been granted made him feel human again. Like he was once again Percival Graves, Director of Security, even if they hadn’t left London yet. He was told President Picquery was awaiting his return, as well as several reports that would be on his desk to catch him up to speed.

Once in New York, Graves is finally able to piece together Newt’s story. Grindelwald had him locked up for two months, impersonating him while a supposed beast ran loose in the city. He had also taken it upon himself to make updates to Graves’ team because when he was going through the remaining stack he found that someone he didn’t recall moving was being reinstated.

Completely peeved, Graves reached out to Santiago for answers. “When in Merlin’s name was Auror Goldstein demoted?”

“Five weeks ago. It was for attacking a no-maj,” Santiago said, shifting from foot to foot in the face of his irritation. “Mary Lou Barebone. She was the adopted mother of the obscurus.”

Newt told him about that, but hadn’t mentioned names. So Goldstein had been defending a child who ended up being of the magical community. What a shame it was that research into the fact hadn’t been more thorough. “And the obscurial is deceased, correct?”

“Yes, executed at Madame President’s orders. Poor thing,” Santiago said sadly, shuffling the papers before stopping to stare down at a photograph. “But he was out of control and a danger to the city.”

“And there was no name?” Graves asked, as he reached out to take the photograph. He recalled that Newt said they never identified which orphan Mary Lou had tormented to such a point. The photo was a blurry no-maj group picture of a family. He spotted the face just as Santiago answered.

“The name was Credence Barebone, sir.”

Graves’ stomach dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the aurors are named after B99


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the start of this chapter I basically picture Credence as he appears in Crimes of Grindelwald.

The temperature in Mauritius was supposed to have started dropping by the time they arrived, but it seemed the humidity had yet to get the message. Credence could feel his shirt sticking to his back, and the dark maroon was stained even darker at his front. 

Upon first disguising him, Newt had taken Credence to a shop where a giggling witch fluffed his hair until it tumbled around his shoulders. Credence had obediently left it until they were out of London before gathering his courage to request a cut. 

He was so grateful he did because even with his hair shorn short, it curled ticklishly along his hairline and made it hard not to fidget. 

“Credence,” Newt whispered from somewhere to his left. “Over there, quickly.” 

When Newt invited him to help with his work, amidst research and experiments with the Obscurus, Credence had expected more animal tending. He wouldn’t have guessed that four months later he would be creeping around a sugar cane crop, searching for runespoors.

Several had been plaguing farmers, so Newt wanted to catch and relocate them before they were caught and killed. “Honestly,” he said, watching the two runespoors winding about each other in a box. “They should be on the main continent, not somewhere out here. I bet someone brought one as a pet.” 

Thus far, the closest Credence had ever seen him to upset was when someone was irresponsible or cruel to creatures. It felt strange, but it was an introduction to an anger that didn’t leave him frightened and trembling. 

“Back to our lodging then,” Newt announced as they settled the runespoors their proper habitat. “We’ll stay a bit to see if there are any more sightings, but I think the rumor of a nest was because someone saw three snake heads. Or six,” he looked adoringly at the runespoors one more time. 

Credence couldn’t help but smile. Sweaty, sticky, and tired as he was, it did feel good to help something. “Where do we go if there aren’t any more?” 

“Ouagadougou.” 

When they returned to the inn, Newt spoke to the man at the front desk while Credence returned to the room. He used the privacy for a bath in slightly below room temperature water, and already felt sweaty again by the time he redressed. 

As beautiful as Mauritius was, Credence was quickly learning that he preferred a dry climate. 

There was a short rap on the door before Newt entered. He had a letter that was slightly crumpled from how tight he was holding it. 

“What’s wrong?” Credence asked worriedly. The last letter they received came from Newt’s older brother, who had assured Newt that all was well, so he feared what might put the solemn look on Newt’s face. 

“It’s from my old professor,” Newt said, moving to sit on the edge of one of the cots. He unrolled the parchment and looked it over again. “I’m afraid I have very bad news, Credence.” 

The cold fear was immediate, and oh so familiar. Credence shrank back, eyeing the letter as though it might attack him. “Is it about me?” Thus far there hadn’t been any news of a surviving obscurial, and they were left to assume that Mr. Graves either hadn’t put two and two together, or something stayed his hand from revealing Credence. Every day brought the possibility that the silence had ended. 

“Not exactly, but it is relevant to you,” Newt said. “Gellert Grindelwald escaped custody when he was being extradited to Europe.” 

Credence felt his whole body blur at the edges. He could distantly hear Newt calling his name, but it took all his concentration not to explode entirely. That man, that  _ horrible man _ was free again. What if he came for Credence? Or worse, what if he went after Mr. Graves again? 

Every molecule left of his body roared against the thought. Credence would find him if he went after Mr. Graves. He would kill him like he should have back in New York. 

The furious rush of wind around his ears was abruptly interrupted as a white wisp charged through the black cloud of the obscurus. It did no damage, but as tendrils from it brushed against Credence, he felt flashes of a feeling:  _ Tina looking forward to his book. Jacob’s wondrous awe at the creatures. Queenie’s gentle understanding in the face of his pain.  _

Credence fell back, the black cloud dissipating as the white thing, what he recognized as Newt’s patronus trotted around him. 

“I’m sorry,” fell out of his mouth before he even thought to speak. 

Newt’s wand was still in his hand, but it wasn’t raised. The white kelpie shook its mane before it vanished. “We’re getting very good that this on the bright side,” Newt smiled at the floor next to Credence. “Are you alright?” 

Credence nodded mutely. 

“Good.” Newt moved slowly, kneeling next to Credence and tucking his wand away. “It’s okay to be afraid, Credence. But the world does still believe you’re dead. He won’t come for you.”

He didn’t mention being more worried for Mr. Graves. 

“There’s also more. Professor Dumbledore has requested that I come and speak with him in person as soon as possible.” 

“At Hogwarts?” 

“Yes. I don’t think there is any place safer from Grindelwald than there, but I understand if you would rather stay away from more populated areas.” Newt met his eyes for a moment, showing the same warmth he offered all the beasts in his case. “Would you rather stay somewhere else when I go to Scotland?” 

So there was no question of whether or not Newt would go, just if Credence wanted to go with him. The obvious answer was no, he didn’t want to go back to the communities of wizards and their laws that made it dangerous to exist. 

But at the same time, Newt was his only friend in the world. 

“I’ll go.” 

They packed up and were taking a portkey out of Port Louis before the sun had set. Even with magic, it took days to reach Hogsmeade. 

Credence stayed in the suitcase, waiting until they reached the inn. Newt said he could stay in the room, as he didn’t trust that he’d be allowed to bring his case of beasts with him into Hogwarts. 

“Not even with Professor Dumbledore’s invitation,” Newt was still smiling, but after all the time they’d spent together, Credence could see how reluctant he was to leave the creatures behind. 

He tried to smile encouragingly. “I’ll watch them while you’re gone.” 

Newt looked more sincerely pleased before he froze. “Did you hear that?” 

Credence didn’t, but he immediately opened the case and climbed inside. Newt closed it just as there was a knock at the door. Credence crouched near the top of the stairs, listening intently as Newt answered it. 

Who could have found him so quickly? He and Newt had hardly been in the room five minutes. Was it maybe this Professor Dumbledore coming to greet Newt, or was it someone finally coming to arrest Credence? The questions swirled around so loudly in his head that he almost didn’t hear Newt’s quiet greeting: “Tina.” 

Tina. Credence can vaguely remember Tina from  _ that _ night. She had seemed kind, and Newt’s fond memories of her only painted a kinder picture. But he still cowered when she spoke of being in the United Kingdom to investigate Grindelwald’s escape. 

So Grindelwald had escaped while in Europe, which meant Credence could very possibly be in the same country as him. The thought was disconcerting, whether he was presumed dead or not. He hoped Tina was able to catch him. 

“How is Mr. Graves?” Newt asked, his muffled voice sounding closer to the case than before. Did he do that on purpose, so that Credence could hear? 

“Fully recovered, as far as the medi witches could tell,” said Tina. “President Picquery managed to keep him on leave for two whole weeks before he started harassing her.” She broke off into a chuckle. “I’m actually here on his team. He’s leading the investigation. Says it’s personal.” 

“I don’t blame him,” Newt muttered. 

“Me neither. Who knows if he even would have survived if you hadn’t found him. I heard he read one of your drafts.” 

“I’m not sure he found it to his liking.” 

“Well, he paid enough attention to tell me about it when he got back.” 

She began to wheedle at Newt for a chance to read his current draft, which Newt had out and ready to take to Professor Dumbledore. 

Credence stopped paying attention again. Mr. Graves was also there? Probably nearby too if Tina was on his team. It felt like an eternity had passed since they last saw each other. He wondered if Mr. Graves still remembered him? If he did, chances were it would be the fact that Credence was a dangerous killer. 

That thought hurt as much as always. He wanted Mr. Graves to remember him fondly, even if he didn’t deserve it. 

* * *

Goldstein and Peralta had stayed behind to take a look around Hogsmeade, while Graves brought Diaz and Boyle with him. They waited outside the door while Graves sat at one Professor Albus Dumbledore’s desk. There were two cups of tea as well that neither of them had bothered to drink.

Graves hated Albus Dumbledore. He’d never done anything outright horrible, but even as they spoke cordially, he found that he didn’t trust Dumbledore for a second regarding Grindelwald. But officially, he was only there to talk, and he had no jurisdiction to begin investigating a humble school teacher simply because of a gut feeling. 

“And you have no idea where he might of gone?” It was an obvious question of course, but Graves had saved it for last. 

“I’m afraid not Director Graves,” Dumbledore replied around a hard candy he’d originally offered to Graves. “Any place I could think of, I’m sure you’ve visited. Other than Durmstrang and my childhood home, there was nowhere in particular that I can think of to hold significance.” 

“I understand.” Graves still didn’t believe him. “Well, I think I’ve taken enough of your time, Professor Dumbledore. And thank you again for taking the time to meet with me.” 

“It was a pleasure.” Dumbledore stood with Graves and followed him to the door. “And I will, of course, be in touch if I can think of anything helpful.” 

“I would appreciate that.” Graves stopped at the door and offered his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Professor.” 

“You as well, Director Graves,” Dumbledore shook his hand twice before return to his casual stance with his hands in his trouser pockets. “I’m very glad to see you safe and back at work.” 

Graves smiled tightly before he turned his back and left the room. Diaz and Boyle let him walk a few steps ahead of them as he strolled down the halls of Hogwarts. They could probably sense his lingering irritation in his echoing footsteps.  

He turned the final corner, more than ready to leave Hogwarts and its faculty and get back to work when he spotted a familiar figure. 

“Newt Scamander,” he said sharply, causing said figure to freeze with a clear look of guilt. 

Diaz and Boyle came to a stop on either side of Graves, flanking him in a show of intimidation. 

“I knew your brother, Theseus, during the war. If you have a minute, I’d like a word in private.” Graves looked pointedly at his aurors. They looked unsure, but obediently stepped past him and Newt to disappear into the Great Hall. 

Newt opened his mouth, but Graves held up a hand to silence him, counting to twenty in his mind before lowering it. 

“Mr. Graves,” Newt began the moment he had permission to speak. He didn’t say any more, instead trailing off looking squirrely and nervous. 

“I sat on very sensitive information because I thought it was safer that way,” Graves stated, when he saw that Newt wouldn’t continue. “But just to be clear, from here on out, I expect updates.” 

Graves wouldn’t have stayed silent if he thought that Credence was an earnest threat. But in all the time they spent in such close quarters, there hadn’t been a single instance where he showed any signs of the obscurus. If Newt could contain it, Graves would allow that to keep Credence's survival a secret from Grindelwald. But only if he knew what was happening. 

Newt paused again with a considering look. Then slowly looked at Graves from under his floppy hair. “I see. I can do that.” 

“And I expect it to stay between you and I exclusively.” 

“Of course.” Newt relaxed, straightening his posture. 

Graves nodded sharply and continued after his aurors. He didn’t bother telling Newt where to reach him, after all, if he couldn’t figure it out, he could just ask Theseus. 

The elder Scamander brother was one of the few people who knew his exact address. And even then, the select few were only chosen to keep tabs on whether or not he’d been replaced again. 

He recalled his initial return to New York. If he thought that his situation with Credence was awkward, then his first day back at MACUSA was downright Hellish. Seraphina was the only one who could look him directly in the eye, but Graves kept looking away every time she sniffled. 

Everyone had been fooled, but those closest to him had been painfully self flagellating. 

Graves had been cleared, approved to return to work after a short leave to finish recovering, and then he had promptly moved out of his penthouse in Manhattan for a brownstone in Cobble Hill. It had cost a pretty penny, but he had it to spend and he felt like he needed extra space. 

That need only lasted for so long, and he was violating Seraphina’s order of a month’s rest only halfway through. And then he was back in the thick of it as though he’d never left. He even got to enjoy a short trip to gloat about his escape to Grindelwald before he was caught up in the politics of having an international terrorist as a prisoner. 

After the extradition order came, Graves had commented to Seraphina that if he never had to deal with another British delegate it would be too soon. Three days later, they received word that Grindelwald had escaped, and so the chase began.

He’d thought of Credence, tucked away in a magizoologist’s suitcase a lot. Most particularly when it came time for he and his team to travel to London for a meeting with the Ministry of Magic. He knew that no letter from Credence would come, but he couldn’t help but watch every time an owl or crow swooped down. 

There had been anger at first, in the privacy of his own home while staring down at the reports his aurors had turned in regarding the New Salem Philanthropic Society. Everything he’d felt upon learning that an obscurial existed in America, and then a sting of betrayal that Credence had looked him in the eye and lied for two weeks. 

But then, why would Credence had admitted anything? First he’d been systematically abused by his adopted mother for years, and then someone wearing Graves’ face had used him in a quest for power, and then the magical community that should have protected him attempted to kill him. 

He had toyed with the idea of revealing what he knew, but he simply couldn’t find the will. Not with the image of Credence in his mind, eyes soft and trembling as he tended so gently to the beasts in Newt’s case. The disconnect between that, and the raging monster in the reports was too great. 

Grindelwald's escape was the final straw that truly kept Graves silent. 

Eventually, he wrote to Theseus, and learned that Newt had fallen off the map even before Graves even made it back to New York. He tried to find out where he’d gone, if only to know the location of the obscurus should the worst happen, but only learned as far as Africa. 

He was glad to have run into Newt. And hopefully, Newt would keep his word so that Graves could stay up to speed. Mercy Lewis help that man if he failed to update Graves.

There were very few leads in Scotland besides Hogwarts, but Graves led his aurors around Hogsmeade questioning businesses about any recent happenings. It was as useless as he’d assumed it would be, but Graves had been more lax during his first investigation in Europe, and that led to being stuck in a crate for several weeks. 

The sun was starting to set before he allowed Diaz and Boyle some downtime. They invited him for dinner out, but Graves waved them off. He planned to follow up with the others and send a message back to MACUSA, but the witch at the front desk called him over as he entered. 

She tried to make small talk as she offered him a letter that had been dropped off, but Graves remained rudely stoic. He was certain he recognized that handwriting.

The letters were crooked and scratched, spelling out only his first name. He took it to his room and checked it for hexes and curses, but it was safe. Honestly, he figured it would be. Graves opened the letter and checked the bottom first for the sender’s name: Credence. 

Credence’s letter began with profuse apologies begging for forgiveness. It went on for six lines that were smudged in some places from tears. Even if Graves had felt angry before it wouldn’t have help up under such an onslaught. 

He read on receiving updates about the beasts they’d found, Newt’s work to remove the obscurus, and finally assurance that Credence has thought of ‘Mr. Graves’ (which was scribbled out and replaced with Percival) every day.

It was charming, adorable, and so very Credence. Graves’ chest warmed, recalling the little smiles on Credence’s face when he forgot himself. Smiles were so natural on his lips. 

Unfortunately, it was that exact line of thought that made him fold the letter back up. As much as he wanted to dwell on the fact that Credence still thought of him, there was too much happening that Graves needed to focus on. He spared one more wistful look at the paper before he wordlessly ignited it and then tossed it in the fireplace. He had his first update, and until the wizarding world was safe from Grindelwald’s fanaticism again, that would have to be good enough. 

Only the next morning there was another letter waiting at the front desk. This time, it was directly from Newt. 

Graves took his coffee in his room to read it. It was a more formal update with an assurance that 'their mutual friend' was safe and a final note that monthly updates would be sent. No exact mention of the obscurus, for which Graves was grateful. Better not to have a paper trail of that. 

But then Graves had to wonder if Newt knew that Credence had sent him a separate letter.

After breakfast, Graves met with the rest of his team, learning from Tina that she’d found Newt in town as well, but he’d had no information. Graves pointedly ignored the way she lit up when recounting their meeting. 

They spent two more weeks in Europe, travelling from Hogsmeade to London, to Brussels, to Berlin, and all the way up to Durmstrang Institute before they finally returned to New York, empty handed.

Graves had two days of hectic paperwork and meetings before another letter arrived. The great gray owl that delivered it didn’t even wait for a treat before taking flight again. 

The envelope was blank, prompting another round of spells that would have rendered any curses inert. It was from Credence again. Graves huffed, mentally counting the days and wondering if he’d lost a week or two, as he sat at his kitchen table. 

 

_ Dear Percival,  _

_ I couldn’t wait a whole month to write another letter, I hope you don’t mind. If you do, you don’t have to read. Newt said that I could send it with the owl. I don’t know how he knew where to go, so I hope this reaches you.  _

_ Newt said you weren’t angry with me. I hope that’s true. I think about you every time I go to feed the mooncalves. I know you said that they look like me, but they just remind me of you now.  _

_ I’m not supposed to say where we are, but I will say that we’re near the ocean. I saw a mermaid for the first time. They look very different than I expected, but I’m glad in a way. Is that strange? It would have been a waste if they just looked like humans, like in no-maj story books.  _

_ My monster, you know the one, it hasn’t come out. I’m doing my best to help Newt with his research, but mostly I sit while he does tests. I hope that we’ll be able to help anyone else who ends up this way.  _

_ I’m sorry if I’m boring you. I didn’t have much to say, but I wanted to let you know that I’m okay, and I miss you.  _

_ Credence  _

 

Graves heaved a sigh, staring down at the letter. It was shorter but somehow even more earnest than the first. Perhaps Credence had been heartened with confirmation that Graves would keep his secret. 

He wouldn’t burn this letter. There were times when he’d wished he hadn’t burned the first, so he would keep at least one, if only to read at the end of the harder days. 

One letter became two, and then three, and then even more. Newt’s updates came monthly as promised, but Credence had begun to write weekly. Either Wednesday or Thursday brought the gray owl back, pecking impatiently at Graves’ window only to fly away the instant the letter was off its foot. 

Every letter was different, but with a few key phrases that Credence always included. 

_ I miss you _ ,  _ I think of you _ , and the one Graves hated,  _ I’m sorry _ . 

It was a little strange, receiving what felt like letters from a sweetheart in the midst of Grindelwald’s bid for power. 

At work, Graves had to deal with the fact that Grindelwald’s following was growing, and his influence was spreading. The bastard was also as slippery as an eel, and every time it felt as though one of the many governments searching for him had a location, he was in the wind again. 

It led to many sleepless nights and frustrated drinking. Some days, only the promise of more sweet words from Credence got him out of bed.  

It was edging into the Fall, and the tree in his unkempt garden was dropping bright yellow leaves all over. There had been talk of a Samhain celebration around the office, even as Graves’ department continued their tireless work. 

Nearly six months Grindelwald had been missing, and while they knew plenty of the chaos he left in his wake, they had yet to catch him. 

Graves was nursing a particularly strong cup of coffee one morning when a tapping came at his window. He blinked at it, somewhat confused, as the previous letter had arrived only two days before. 

However, when he looked, it was the same great gray owl that had become so familiar. Graves opened the window and the owl hopped inside, hooting in an oddly bedraggled manner as he took the letter. 

To his surprise, the owl began to preen without even a glance at the window. 

Graves stayed beside it as he opened the letter. 

 

_ Dear Percival,  _

_ I know that this letter will arrive soon after my last. I wrote it before Hooty even returned from delivering it--  _

 

Graves had to snort at the fact that the owl was named Hooty. 

 

_ \--I don’t know if all of this writing has been a burden to you. I feel as though I write down every thought I have, but I never give you a chance to respond. Hooty was instructed to return immediately to keep our location safe, but I told him to wait this time.  _

_ Percival, if you wouldn’t mind, could you respond? Just this once, even if it’s to tell me that you don’t want to write to me. I want to hear from you so badly.  _

_ Credence _

 

His handwriting had greatly improved in all the time he’d been writing. If Graves lined up the letters, he could see the progression clearly. It made him feel happy that somehow, in some way, Credence had escaped the misery that cursed him so thoroughly in New York, and had found a place in the world to thrive. 

He went to the cupboard and produced the treats he offered to other carrier birds. Once Hooty was eating happily, Graves sat down with a bit of parchment and a pen. 

With the chance to send an actual response to Credence, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. There were the mundane details of his life, his work, the progress on the Grindelwald case, and perhaps a million other things that he might put down. 

There were his complicated feelings regarding a boy he’d known for two weeks nearly a year ago.

Graves took a deep breath and closed his eyes. If anyone’s letter was a burden, it was his. He wrote the simplest message he could think of. 

 

_ Dear Credence,  _

_ I miss you.  _

_ Respectfully,  _

_ Percival Graves  _

 

He stood and tied it to Hooty’s leg before softly petting his feathers. “You’ll take it to him safely, won’t you?” He asked quietly, so as not to spook the owl. 

Hooty puffed up his feathers proudly and hopped toward the open window. Graves watched him take flight and disappear into the sky before he pulled his window shut.  

* * *

Credence rather liked New Brunswick. He still wasn’t accustomed to mermaids, or even most water creatures, but Newt had been excited for the visit. A contact named Samuel Bear had written regarding lumpeguin along a riverbed.

He had preferred to wait on a soft patch of grass, up away from the bank, while the other two went on ahead. The foliage reminded him of Fall in New York. He rarely had the time to appreciate how beautiful the colors of the trees were when it meant that the biting cold would soon be upon them. 

A small breeze kicked up, rustling his hair where it curled against his cheeks. It tickled. 

He heard the flapping of wings just as Hooty landed on his leg. Credence’s breath caught when he saw a piece of paper tied to his leg. 

“Did you bring me good news?” he asked, pulling Hooty into a short hug. Hooty puffed up and nibbled at Credence’s chin. That tickled too. 

Newt told him that birds generally didn’t like being hugged, but Hooty would hop into his arms if he forgot. Though that was probably because he’d learned the tastiest treats came after a hug. 

Credence opened his own case, one he’d taken to carrying after Newt had gifted him Hooty, and found one such treat. 

He only had a brief flash of disappointment when he saw there wasn’t much writing before he read the note. Tears welled up in his eyes. 

Newt assured him that Percival had been receiving his letters, but after so long, it felt as though he was sending them off into the ether. And even if they were reaching him, Credence couldn’t know if they were read, or even welcome. For all he knew, Percival threw them away. 

But this, he hugged the letter to his chest, this was confirmation. 

Since they’d returned to this continent, Credence felt the ache to see Percival more than ever. And now, he was so close. They could probably find a portkey directly to New York City if they tried. 

It was a foolish, dangerous thought, but the more Credence tried to resist it, the more it came to him. If Percival missed him too, then surely he would be happy to see Credence. 

Not that Newt would ever allow it. Lenient as he was with Credence, he was also decently protective. It had been months before he let Credence out of his sight outside of the case. There was no way he would agree to returning to New York. Even if Credence knew he kept correspondence with Tina Goldstein, and probably wished to see her as well. 

He heard Newt and Samuel’s conversation as they returned from the bank of the river. Newt was thanking Samuel profusely for allowing him to witness the lumpeguin in their natural habitat. 

Credence stood, folding up the piece of parchment and stuffing it into his pocket. Samuel looked amused at Newt’s thanks, which he was expressing so excitedly that he nearly tripped several times. 

Credence thanked Samuel as well, for his assistance and hospitality. He had greatly enjoyed their brief stay with the Maliseet.  Samuel parted with them at the road. Newt and Credence started towards town so that Newt could stock up on ink for his notes. 

Hooty stayed on Credence’s shoulder while he waited down in the suitcase. 

“That was a smashing success,” Newt declared, practically skipping as he descended the steps. “The lumpeguin are much more pleasant than I expected. Though that was probably thanks to Samuel.” 

Credence hummed, folding and refolding the letter until Newt finally noticed it. 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s,” Credence hesitated. Newt wouldn’t be angry, he told himself. And even if he was, he wouldn’t be cruel. “It’s from Mr. Graves.” 

Newt looked at Hooty. 

“I asked him for a response. Hooty brought it while we were at the river.” Credence offered the still half-folded letter. “He misses me.” 

That drew a startled look, and Newt crossed the room to look down at the short letter. “It isn’t safe, Credence,” he said quietly.   

“I know. I just…” Credence looked down. He tried so hard not to let himself hope, but hearing the actual refusal made him droop. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first.” 

“I forgive you,” Newt said easily, moving to take a seat next to Credence. “I know how special he is to you. And it’s not that I think he would purposefully put you in danger.” 

“But it still isn’t safe.” 

Newt sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Perhaps,” he muttered as Hooty left Credence’s shoulder to peck at Newt’s fingers. “I could ask his opinion on the situation.” That in itself was shocking, but Newt continued. “It has been a year, and you don’t have to meet on the street.” 

“Really?” Credence’s voice shook with excitement.  

“I’ll write him,” Newt said. “See what he thinks. He is the director of security after all.” 

Newt drafted a letter with the announcement that he was thinking of visiting New York to show Tina the final of his book. He added a question toward the end to see if Graves would mind if Newt dropped by to see him. 

After the letter was sent with Hooty, Credence was in agony. What if the note had been a platitude to keep the obscurus from reacting? What if Mr. Graves would be affronted at the gall of Credence trying to visit? It really was so selfish of Credence to want to go back to New York. He wasn’t the only person who would suffer if they were caught. Newt had put his livelihood in danger by hiding Credence, and surely Mr. Graves would face consequences for not alerting MACUSA of the obscurus' survival.

It got so bad that by day three, Newt had Credence taking calming breaths in the middle of the mooncalves. 

“The world isn’t ending, no matter what his response is,” Newt said. Credence wanted to believe him. 

Hooty arrived after supper, bearing a letter that Credence was too scared to read. He handed it off to Newt before running off to the mooncalves again. 

Newt didn’t come to find him, instead waiting for Credence to meekly return with his head already held low. 

“He said no?” Credence asked morosely. 

“Mr. Graves said that he would be happy for a visit,” Newt said. He was reasonable and calm again, as if he hadn’t just delivered the best news in the world. 

The only bad part is the fact that they had to wait until the following day to begin traveling south. 

Credence had lived most of the past year in the case whenever they were around settlements. He was accustomed to it, and felt safer for the option to hide while Newt conducted business. But not being able to see their progress gnawed at him. He spent most of his time alone pacing and wringing his hands. 

He had put on his newest white button down, and black trousers that Newt said actually fit. Credence never had clothes that fit before, but supposedly they were _becoming_. He wanted to look becoming for Graves. 

Before, Graves had told him he was pretty, and beautiful, and all manner of things that Credence hadn’t believed. But he still tried his best to look nice. It felt like his heart jumped out of his chest he heard Newt’s voice:

“You can come out now Credence.” 

Credence climbed the steps, nervously fussing with his already tousled hair. It curled around his face in a way he knew his ma would have hated if he was still alive to see him. It made him feel rebellious in his weaker moments. 

He kept his eyes on his feet until he was fully out of the case. Then he looked up. And then he looked back down with his face burning. 

Graves looked wonderful.  He was similar to the first Mr. Graves that Credence met, but he was down to his shirtsleeves, wearing a similar outfit to Credence but looking so much better. It made him shift self-consciously. 

Newt closed his case and looked between them. “Will you be alright?” he asked, but Credence couldn’t tell to whom he was speaking. 

“My best to Goldstein,” Graves said with clear dismissal. 

Credence was grateful that Newt took that hint to excuse himself. 

Once they were alone, he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up to croak, “Hello Percival.” 

Graves was staring at him, and it was a long moment before he muttered, “shit.” 

Credence felt a flash of worry before Graves closed the distance between them and pulled Credence close by the hips. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Credence,” Mr. Graves rasped before he leaned in and kissed Credence. 

Credence yelped, but quickly wrapped his arms around Graves’ neck. At the touch Graves pulled back, but Credence didn’t let him go far. Kissing him was even better than he remembered, and Credence was so happy he could cry. 

Maybe he was crying. He was definitely smiling. 

Graves kissed Credence’s grinning lips twice more, quick and gentle before he pressed their foreheads together. 

“Hello Credence,” he said.  

Credence let out a giddy laugh. “I missed you,” he said, even though he had written it so many times. 

“I missed you too.” Graves kissed his cheek, pulling him close again so that they were pressed together. “How long are you in New York?” 

“Only a few days. There wasn't really a lot of time in Newt's schedule, but I just...We were so close, and I wanted to see you so bad.” 

“It’s not safe here,” Graves said, as if they didn’t both know it. “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like this.” It was hard to listen to that when he followed up that statement with kisses along Credence’s jaw. 

It was still gentle, like the affection was overflowing out of Graves. Credence could feel his skin getting hot again, with the heat pooling in his belly. He felt this way before sometimes, even before meeting Mr. Graves, but tried to ignore it because of Mary Lou’s teachings. Even year away from it, Credence couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the way his body reacted to Graves’ attention. 

“I’m sorry, I’m getting carried away,” Graves rasped against his ear. 

Credence shuddered, practically clutching at Graves’ shoulders. “Feels good,” he murmured. 

Graves huffed a laugh. “This shouldn’t be the first thing we do.” 

“I’m sorry,” Credence said reflexively. 

“It’s not your fault that I’m a dirty old man.” 

“You aren’t!” Credence protested, and the spell was broken. 

Graves laughed deeply, face buried in Credence’s shoulder. Credence might have felt affronted, but he could feel the laughing in his whole body, and made everything warm and light. 

After calming, Graves leaned back. He was grinning so handsomely that Credence immediately wanted another kiss. 

“At least let me give you a grand tour and a meal.” 

Credence finally took a moment to notice that he was in an opulent living room. “Oh,” he blinked. He’d never seen where Graves lived before. “That would be nice.”  

* * *

Graves had picked this place because he wanted off the island, and he was accustomed to a certain standard of living. He knew that his brownstone house was overly opulent for a single person, but he hardly ever had company to give him grief over it.

He didn’t think he came off as a particularly spartan person, but even Seraphina had been surprised to find he enjoyed a bit of luxury. 

Still, as they began the tour of the three floors of his home, Graves couldn’t help but feel as though the space was ridiculously exaggerated by the sparseness of his furniture and decorations. 

“I moved, but was working a lot,” he explained, after showing Credence a mostly empty sitting room, foyer, and guest bedroom. “I haven’t really had time to fill the new place up.” 

“It’s still very nice,” Credence said, like the angel he was. “I’m sure you’ll make it look even better when you have time.” 

Maybe, maybe not. It felt almost overwhelmingly bare when he wasn’t going straight from the kitchen to the master bedroom. 

“Although,” Credence reached for Graves’ hand, but he faltered at the last moment. Graves took his hand instead, and raised it up to kiss his knuckles. Credence ducked his head with a pretty smile. “I hope you aren’t working too hard,” Credence said, looking up from under his eyelashes. “You still need your rest.” 

Anyone but Credence would have been subjected to a sharp look and a cold shoulder for suggesting he hadn’t completely recovered. Graves may have been caught, but he was still plenty powerful enough to escape Grindelwald thank you very much. But from Credence it was too earnest to be anything but charming. 

He smiled and pulled Credence along. 

“The top floor is the master bedroom and en-suite bath,” he explained, leading Credence up the final flight of stairs. “And I had a hearth added so I wouldn't have to go all the way to the sitting room for a fire call.” 

The stairs came to a landing that room enough for perhaps a chair or coat rack, and a single heavy door that Graves had laid ward after ward and enchantment after enchantment on. It took him a moment to open before he stepped aside to allow Credence entry first. 

His bedroom was overly large, even by his standards, so he had moved his desk in so it could double as his office. It was also by far the most lived in space. 

Credence wandered into the middle of the room, turning slowly and taking everything in with the natural light from the balcony doors. He still had that little smile, or maybe he’d finally been happy enough that his mouth naturally took that shape now. 

So many times the past year, Graves had convinced himself that he was remembering Credence in a haze. That he’d been compromised and weak when they first met, and he’d latched onto Credence as a lifeline. But standing in his presence, feeling the weight of his inexplicable adoration again, Graves knew he’d been lying to himself.  He was a pathetic fool, but he was still smitten. 

Tempted for another kiss, Graves crossed his arms so he wouldn’t be distracted. Credence was looking healthier, but it was nearing dinner time. 

“I’ve never seen a bed so large,” Credence mumbled, as if he was trying to weaken Graves’ resolve to act like a gentleman. 

“It’s comfortable,” he said at a loss. 

Credence looked at him then, only turning his head to look over his shoulder. “It looks comfortable.” 

Well shit. 

Graves raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Are you trying to seduce me, Credence?” 

Immediately, Credence turned red and averted his gaze. He didn’t respond verbally, but Graves took that as a yes. He couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on his face, and he couldn’t keep from moving forward to lean his front against Credence’s back. 

“Food,” he said, kissing the white shirt on Credence’s slim shoulder. “Before anything else.” 

Credence sighed, leaning back against him. “I’m so happy right now,” he whispered like he was afraid someone would overhear. “I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

“I know the feeling,” Graves wrapped his arms around Credence’s waist and pointedly avoided looking at his bed. “Let’s go back downstairs for now.” 

Graves could see Credence begin to pout, but he agreed without a fight. 

Leading the way down the stairs gave Graves too much time to think without looking at Credence’s distracting expressions. He knew the moment he opened Newt’s letter that he was going to make the selfish, irresponsible decision. He had slept on it, but that only gave him time to talk himself into his reply. 

In the cold light of day, he truly wanted to see Credence again. At the request for a response, Graves had expected that they would begin sending letters back and forth. But this was so much better. Especially with the way Credence caught his hand at the bottom of the stairs. He was blushing again, but didn’t let go, even when they reached the kitchen. 

Unable to resist the urge to show off a bit, Graves asked if Credence would like him to cook with magic. 

“Yes,” Credence beamed immediately. 

With a flourish of his hand, a quick meal began to assemble itself onto plates at the newly purchased dining table. He was proficient, but not an expert in cooking magic. Thankfully, he could guarantee that anything he made would be palatable in a worst case scenario. 

They sat, with Credence staring at Graves adoringly, nearly ignoring his magically made chicken soup. Graves crooked his finger and suddenly, Credence’s chair slid across the floor to press against his. 

Credence yelped but it turned to a giggle as his bewilderment subsided. He sighed and leaned against Graves’ shoulder. “I’m so happy,” he murmured 

Graves was too. He picked up a spoon, and carefully offered a bite to Credence, lest he forget to eat. Credence stared at the offering almost cross eyed before he laughed and opened his mouth. 

They reciprocated, feeling each other for several bites until it seemed Credence was ready to eat for real. 

Finally taking control of his own spoon, Graves said, “tell me about your travels. Newt was always cagey about details.” He tacked on the second bit with a small amount of bitterness. Even with Credence writing him practically religiously, it irked a bit that Newt was living with him. 

“We were in Canada last,” Credence said, stirring his soup. “And before that, Iceland. They have gnomes there that kept trying to take my socks.” 

Graves blinked, “is that something that gnomes normally do?” 

“Not at all. They just wanted  _ my  _ socks for some reason!” 

Of all the things to finally draw out real affront from Credence, it was gnomes taking his socks. Graves chuckled, wondering if Credence tried to chase them, or if he simply gave in. 

“We also went to Japan,” Credence continued. “I thought that I saw magical birds, but Newt said they were Mandarin Ducks, and that they weren’t magical. Have you seen them before?” 

“I haven’t,” Graves admitted. “But birds can get very beautiful, even if they’re not magical.” 

Credence nodded. “I thought I liked magical creatures a lot. But I think I just like all creatures.” 

Dinner was quickly disappearing as Credence spoke. If he hadn’t sent so many letters, Graves might have even wondered if Credence had remembered him at all. But he enjoyed Credence’s revelry as he recounted his adventures and all the new things he’d seen and learned. 

But eventually, Credence’s pauses became a little longer and his eyes grew heavy lidded. Even if it wasn't particularly late, traveling must have taken a lot out of him. Graves still held out until Credence lost a fight against a big yawn. Their dishes were long since emptied, and a wave of his hand sent them back into the kitchen. He’d wash them later. 

“Newt said you were planning to stay here,” he said, pushing out his chair. 

“Is that okay?” Credence asked, staring up at him. As if Graves could say that it wasn’t when Credence was on the verge of sleep. 

Graves took Credence’s hand and tugged him up to stand. He placed a kiss on Credence’s cheek. “Of course it’s fine. I made up the guest room already.” 

Credence slumped, looking devastated. 

Merlin’s beard, no one in his entire life had been so obvious. “Or,” Graves said slowly, knowing that this was a fight he was going to lose. “If you’d prefer, there’s room on the third floor.” 

It worked like a charm. Credence straightened immediately with grin. Toe to toe, their similarity in height was astounding, since Graves had to look down to catch Credence’s eyes more often than not. Credence barely had to move to place a kiss Graves’ cheek. “Please” 

After he took a deep, hopefully calming breath, Graves led Credence upstairs. “If you’d like to have a bath, I can lend you some pajamas afterwards.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I noticed you didn’t bring an overnight bag with you,” Graves noted wryly. “Did you know I’d take care of you?” 

When he glanced back, Credence was red cheeked and biting his lip. 

* * *

Graves showed into the en-suite master bath. It was larger than any bathroom Credence had ever seen, with a magnificent clawed tub that looked as though it would fit several people.

Before he could even consider how long it might take to fill such a tub, Graves waved his hand. The tub filled quickly with clear, steaming water before white fluffy bubbles crowded the top. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Graves said. “The towels on the rack are clean. Feel free to use as many as you need.” 

“Thank you,” Credence wondered how many times he could say that before it began to annoy him. But Graves didn’t appear annoyed, he held Credence’s gaze as he backed out and closed the door to give the offered privacy. 

Credence disrobed quickly, carefully folding his clothes and setting them on the vanity counter. 

The bathroom tile was cold on his feet, so Credence sank into the bubble bath with a happy sigh. It smelled nice, like eucalyptus. He began to scrub quickly, because as lovely and luxurious as the bath was, he wanted to spend more time with Graves before sleep overtook him. 

He had been so scared of seeing Graves again after so long. Part of him worried that their conversation would be stilted, that their visit would be uncomfortable, that somehow he would come back to New York and find that the real Mr. Graves was just like the fake one. There had been moments where pauses went on, but Graves was doting. 

Once he felt clean, Credence pulled the plug and turned on the tap to splash in the clean water. He grinned a little at how Graves used magic for so many things, even more than Newt.

Credence took a single towel and ran it perfunctorily over his body before he wrapped it around his sternum. It hung to his knees and was incredibly fluffy and soft. Credence wondered if this was another thing accomplished with magic, or if it was just how expensive towels felt. 

He paused, Graves hadn’t brought a change of clothes yet. The bath had been quick, but surely not so quick that Graves hadn’t time to find extra pajamas? 

Credence peeked into the bedroom and he spotted Graves digging through the drawers of an ornate bureau, muttering to himself. 

“If it’s too much trouble,” Credence began. 

“It’s not that,” Graves said, looking at him. “I was just hoping to find a pajama set I haven’t worn too much.” 

“I don’t mind worn,” Credence said. 

Graves grumbled something to the effect of “mental image” but then he grabbed a soft pair of red, black, and gray plaid pajamas. 

Credence took them, they felt warm and wonderful. He ducked back into the bathroom and pulled them on, using the towel to ruffle his hair so that it wouldn’t drip on his borrowed top. 

When he came back out, leaving the towel on the rack, Graves had turned down the lights and was sitting in front of the fireplace. A fire was roaring, casting handsome shadows across Graves’ face. 

Credence stumbled forward, having trouble looking away from Graves long enough to make sure he wasn’t tripping over his own feet. “Where did this sofa come from?” he asked vacantly even as he settled onto it. 

“Transfigured,” Graves said. He had changed when Credence did, but his pajamas were a stark black with light trim at the hems. “I prefer open space usually, so I put it away unless I want to sit.” 

“It’s nice,” Credence leaned his head on Graves’ shoulder. “This has all been so nice.” 

“It has,” Graves rested his cheek on the crown of Credence’s head, not seeming to care that it was still damp. “I’m surprised you wanted to see New York again.” 

“I wanted to see  _ you _ again,” Credence said. It came out before he thought of how it might sound. But surely Graves already knew this. “I was scared to come back. But I...you said you missed me.” 

“I did, and I agreed when Newt asked if he should come. But it was selfish of me, putting you in danger like that.”

Credence smiled. He lifted his head, forcing Graves to do the same, and they looked at each other. Credence could practically feel the heat coming from Graves’ eyes, and it gave him the courage he needed to close the gap between them. 

Would every kiss make him feel so hot all over? Or was it only Mr. Graves that would make him ache so deliciously like this? Credence had gone away, and even with the obscurus still inside him, he was practically free from his old life. But still, even with all that he’d experienced, his thoughts would return to Graves. 

Not the memories of the fake, but of the Graves he’d know when they crossed the Atlantic together. Another Graves who knew nothing about him, but this time was kind just to be kind. 

Graves who even now, when he slid his hands along Credence’s waist, moved slowly and carefully. 

Credence moved again, settling his legs on either side of Graves’ thighs without breaking their kiss. He felt clumsy, breathing loudly each time they parted even slightly. He had to lean down for the kiss, cupping Graves’ head in his hands, trying so desperately to please even though he had no idea what he was doing. 

His hips twitched, and Graves gripped his waist harder. Credence followed the force of the touch, letting Graves guide his movements until they were grinding together. Kissing was practically forgotten in the frantic movements. Credence felt Graves’ harsh panting against his collarbone, where his shirt had fallen open. 

He still practiced very little self-abuse, but he knew what would happen if Graves continued to stimulate him that way. 

“Wait,” he whispered. 

Graves froze mid-movement, even his breathing stopped. Then he leaned back, looking Credence in the eye. “Do you want to stop?” he asked with a gravelly voice. 

Credence shook his head, “I just don’t want to make a mess.” He glanced down to where he could see his pajama bottoms tenting. 

Graves followed his gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted slyly. “I see,” he practically purred. “I can help with that.” 

Without warning he stood, lifting Credence by the backs of his thighs. Credence yelped, clutching Graves’ shoulders frantically. He very nearly scolded Graves for that, but his ire melted at the sound of Graves’ rich laughter. 

Graves carried Credence through the long shadows to the bed. He gently laid Credence on his back as far to the middle as he could get without climbing onto the mattress. 

Credence released Graves’ shoulders to cup his jaw again. “Hello.” 

One of Graves’ unseen hands suddenly cupped Credence’s groin and kneaded. “Hello,” he said over the strangled noise Credence made. “Is it okay if I use my mouth?” 

“Your,” Credence cut himself off with another gasp. It felt so good to be touched, especially as he felt the rasp of Graves’ five o’clock shadow on the palm of his hands. “Yes, yes please.” 

Graves kissed him, catching Credence with his mouth half open for deep and probing kiss. “You’re such a good boy,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath the pajamas. 

Credence practically sobbed when he felt Graves’ hand gripping him bare. It was bigger and stronger than his own hands, but it was what Graves said that drove him insane. “I am?” he asked weakly. 

“You are,” Graves moved down. He released Credence in favor of pulling the pajamas down mid thigh. Credence felt terribly exposed before Graves covered him, pressing soft kisses to his belly that quickly moved down. “My good boy,” he said again. 

Credence moaned softly as he felt those words breathed hotly over his hard on. He wanted to writhe under the attention, but was also terrified to move, as though it might snap Graves out of this mood that had overcome him. “Please, Percival, you said, you said,” he babbled, hands grabbing at the blanket under him. 

“I did say, didn’t I?” Fortunately, it seemed Graves wasn’t in a teasing mood. He held Credence again and swallowed him halfway down in a single move. 

Not even the bathwater had been so hot on him, so perfect. Credence couldn’t hold still from the sudden sensation, but Graves held his hips down as he automatically tried to thrust. It felt so hot, so wet, and when Graves began to suck, Credence felt tears forming at the corner of his eyes. 

“Too much, I can’t,” Credence felt his stomach tightening. He was so close to embarrassingly fast, but how could he not be when a perfect man did this to him? He managed to open one eye, looking down to see Graves watching him with dark eyes that gleamed even in the shadows around them. 

He paid no attention to Credence’s warning, only quickening his ministrations until Credence arched his back and cried out hoarsely. 

It was different with another person, Credence thought amongst the feeling of floating. It was so much better with Graves. 

“No mess,” Graves said, licking him gently as he softened. 

“Sinner,” Credence breathed thoughtlessly. He was rewarded with more laughter. “What about you?” 

“Me?” Graves pulled up Credence’s pajama and crawled up so they were face to face again. Despite his nonchalant expression, Credence felt the hard heat pressing against his thigh. 

“You,” he said, shifting against it. “I want to make you feel good too.” 

Graves hummed, leaning on his elbow next to Credence. “I want you to be comfortable.” 

“I can’t imagine not being comfortable with you.” Credence sat up and pressed his hand to Graves’ chest, pushing him onto his back. “And I, I’ve been thinking about this.” 

His eyes trailed down Graves’ front, and his hand followed until he tugged the pajamas down. They were smooth and silky under his touch, but Credence didn’t appreciate them for long. His mouth watered as he gazed down at Graves, proud and erect. 

As if the sight wasn’t a temptation enough, Graves brought a hand up, jerking himself slowly as Credence panted over him. “I could get off like this,” he pointed out through quickening breaths.

He could, but that would be cheating Credence. He gave Graves a baleful look before he leaned down for a closer look. Graves paused with only his head poking out from the top of his closed fist like an offering. 

Credence ran the tip of his tongue across it, testing the taste. It was salty, but not unbearable, and the low sound from Graves was more than motivation enough to close his lips over it. 

He had to push at Graves’ wrist to get him to move his hand further out of the way. Credence was completely unpracticed and couldn’t fit very much to start, but he tried to match the pressure Graves used when sucking him. From the way the taste became headier, it seemed he wasn’t doing poorly. 

Credence didn’t even realize he’d been running his hands up and down Graves’ thighs until Graves’ free hand grabbed him. 

“It’ll be quick,” he rasped. “Come up here, finish with your hand.” 

Pouting, Credence complied. He’d wanted to taste Graves too, but he supposed there would be time for it. Graves pulled him up and practically licked into his mouth as he guided Credence’s hand to stroke him. 

If Credence had the stamina to get hard again so quickly, he would have with the noises Graves made against his lips. 

“So good for me,” he growled, pushing his hips up into the pace he and Credence set. “So fucking good.” 

“I want to be good for you,” Credence whined, trying to push his whole front against Graves’ side. “Does it feel good?” 

“Amazing,” Graves choked as his hips snapped harder. He broke off into a snarl, and Credence felt wetness slicking his grip. He looked down in surprise as Graves slowed their pace, milking out the last few drops onto his mostly clothed stomach. 

“Oh,” he’d been trying to avoid that. 

Graves looked down at the mess before he dropped his head again with a huffed laugh. “Scourgio,” he muttered, and the mess disappeared before Credence’s eyes. 

“Magic,” Credence didn’t know why he said that. 

“I’m a wizard,” Graves said dryly as he manually pulled his pants back up.  

“A sleepy wizard,” Credence noted by the way Graves’ eyes had slid shut. 

“Guilty.” 

Even after admitting that, they laid in the middle of the bed for several minutes before Credence tugged on Graves’ shirt. “Let’s sleep properly.” 

Graves grumbled, but complied. They moved to the head of the bed and climbed under the blankets. Credence ignored his pillow in favor of resting his head against Graves’ chest. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he whispered, staring at the far wall. 

“Honestly, I don’t want you to either,” Graves sighed. “But at the very least, it’s probably safer for you to be on the move until Grindelwald is caught.” 

Credence frowned, when would that man stop interrupting his life? He wished, not for the first time, that he’d killed him down in the subway. 

“But when he’s caught, when this is over, do you think you’d still be interested?” 

In coming to New York, or in Percival Graves? Maybe he was asking both. Credence snuggled closer and pressed a kiss to Graves’ chest. “When he’s caught, I can come back and stay with you?” 

“If that's what you want.” Graves wrapped his arm securely around Credence’s shoulders. “In the meantime, I’d love it if you kept writing.” 

“And you’ll write back?” 

“I will.” 

Credence supposed that was good enough for now. He would be allowed to stay in contact, and he would have the memories of this night to hold onto. He smiled as his eyes drifted shut. 

The church had convinced so many people that magic was evil. But as far as Credence had seen, that depended entirely on the user. Percival Graves was as good as they came, and Credence couldn’t wait to come back to stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end. Find me as mustardprecum on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> Should be able to finish the other chapters pretty quick. Hopefully.


End file.
